


The Heart You Need

by orphan_account



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Drug Use, Kid Fic, Killjoys In Space, M/M, Space Opera, Space Pirates, Telekinesis, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 92,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the Killjoys became the Killjoys.</p>
<p>...if the Killjoys were telepathic space pirates.</p>
<p>(Featuring superheroes and sidekicks, sneaky illegal activities after dark, broken hearts and bitter grudges, and a whole lot of get up and go.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hold on tight and don't look back

**Author's Note:**

> While I haven't intentionally borrowed any tropes or ideas from specific SF/F works and media, this has undoubtedly been influenced by a whole bunch of stuff including but not limited to all the Anne McCaffrey books I read when I was younger, Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover (♥), Firefly, and probably a lot of things I don't even remember. Just... putting that out there. Also, this fic nearly killed me. My profound thanks to N for all the help, but especially for the dog.
> 
> falter created an amazing mix for this fic that can be found [here](http://flyby.dreamwidth.org/2236.html). Go listen to it and squee.

Frank was three when he was first Tested. Young for it – too young, really, but there'd been a lot of talk at the time about the Ways Testing their younger son early, alongside the elder, so nothing would do but for House Iero to follow suit. Frank, of course, was far too small to understand; he only knew that his mother was angry but his father and grandpa pleased, and that Grandma kept a firm hold of his hand to keep him from running off and spoiling the white gown he'd been wrestled into. Of the Testing itself, he would later recall nothing but an impression of rapidly flashing lights, and the satisfaction loud at the forefront of his grandpa's mind as they rode the shuttlecar home.

* * *

When Frank was Tested again at seven, because the Doctor at the Center insisted on it, the flashing lights hurt his head with an insistent prodding that grew and grew until he had to chase it down and squash it flat. When it stopped – Frank felt a definite sense of satisfaction at how abruptly – the technician's mind was a panicked whirl as she stabbed at the big red error messages popping up on her terminal.

The problem, Doctor Morrison explained when Frank was sitting next to his mom in her office afterward, was that three really had been too little. She spoke straight to Frank, like he was a grown-up, which he liked, and her mind was smooth and blank so that he couldn't hear her thoughts at all, which was interesting, so he listened, kicking his legs a bit where they dangled off the too-tall chair.

"You see," she said, turning one of the little models on her desk around so Frank could see that it was a diagram of someone's head, with the brain showing through the clear skull, not all gross like a horror graphic but just a model. "Just like you've been growing, Frank, your brain has too. The brain doesn't finish growing until seven years old, which is why we don't usually test for psi factor until then. Now, it's not entirely unusual for a Family like yours to want to test children younger, mind you, since they like to start your education early."

"But –" Frank bit his lip, looking at his mom. She was unhappy, he could feel it, but he didn't know what to do about it, and he wasn't really sure he was supposed to be talking. She'd sat him down this morning before they'd left and scolded him to mind his manners because Doctor Morrison was very important and married to the Heir of Clan Morrison, who Frank had seen on the news holos. The Doctor just looked at him, though, tilting her head to the side like she was waiting to listen, so he carried on. "I've just been going to normal grade school." That made his mom's mind spike with unhappiness again, though Frank couldn't hear her thoughts.

Doctor Morrison nodded like she understood. "That's because you were very little when they Tested you the first time, weren't you? Usually, when we examine young children for psi potential, we do it a little bit differently, less – invasive, I suppose is the best word. We try to just look at the surface," she ran a finger in a gentle arc over the top of the model brain, "because we don't want to accidentally change or hurt anything. In your case, though, Frank, it seems like they weren't as careful as they could be."

Frank jumped a little when Mom made an angry noise, shifting in her chair. Her thoughts were still hidden – she could keep him from actually reading her mind, if not her feelings – but Frank could feel they were agitated and he bit his lip again, kicking his feet together. "Did they hurt me?"

"I don't think so." Doctor Morrison smiled reassuringly, tapping at the model's head. "Your brain is working just fine, Frank, you don't need to worry about that. What seems to have happened is that the intervention when you were small changed some things a bit. Instead of your psi abilities developing as your brain did, they grew up all at once. You've been able to hear thoughts for a long time, haven't you? Even with the medicine you've been taking."

Frank squirmed, uncomfortable, carefully not looking at his mom even though he could feel the shock radiating off her. "I don't like the medicine," he muttered instead of answering properly. Grandma hadn't given him his dose this morning, and he'd known it was because he was coming here. It felt better, less fuzzy in the back of his head, but he was sure it wouldn't last.

"I don't blame you," Doctor Morrison said, though, her eyes twinkling like she was telling a secret. "Don't worry, Frank, we can do something about that. We need to stop the suppressant so we can find out what you can really do, and teach you how to use your gifts properly. The tests we did this morning showed us that you have a very high factor in telepathy; it was registering a Factor Nine before you shut down the machine."

Frank blinked. He had the vague idea that nine was a high score – his mom's favorite holo-drama that he wasn't supposed to watch had a girl who was a seven, which they all acted like was a big huge deal – but more importantly... "I didn't mean to," he blurted hastily, squirming as he tried to _push_ back the wave of shock and discomfort his mom was practically blasting at him. Doctor Morrison shook her head, smiling.

"Don't worry, it isn't a problem." She stood up from her chair, coming around the desk to reach out a hand to Frank. "Here, let me help with that."

"Huh?" Frank looked up at her kind face, then down at her extended hand, then gingerly put his own in it, not sure at all what to expect. Instantly, the buffeting blast of his mom's unhappy emotions was cut off completely, gentle quiet wrapping around him. Frank felt his eyes getting wide in the sudden silence. "Oh."

"That's better, isn't it?" Doctor Morrison said, and Frank nodded slowly. It was kind of weird, to be alone in his own head for the first time he could remember, but mostly he was relieved that his mom's feelings weren't pushing at him. Maybe her walls weren't as good today because she was all upset, but it felt a lot stronger than he was used to. "That's because of the medicine," Doctor Morrison said like she was reading his mind, and Frank jumped a little when he realized that she _was_. She smiled, though, reassuring, and it didn't feel uncomfortable, like Frank thought it might if she was spying or being nosy.

"Wh-what about the other skills?" Frank's mom said in a wobbly sort of voice that Frank didn't really understand. Doctor Morrison's face turned toward her, but the bubble of quiet around Frank didn't move at all.

"Well, at the moment it looks like Frank has a strong baseline in all the documented ability factors. Telekinesis registered a high four, for example, and Technician Grey said that the readouts were indicating at least a level three in everything else we test for." Frank blinked; the numbers didn't mean all that much, but they seemed to startle his mom; her eyes went wide and she gasped, sinking back in her chair and staring at him. It was weird to see her reaction and not feel it at all; he squirmed, not liking the way she was looking at him.

"So..." she started, and Doctor Morrison nodded, clearly speaking the same grown-up language.

"We're going to need to taper off the suppressant, but I think it would be best to start schooling as soon as possible." She looked down at Frank, smiling like she could feel the way his insides sunk down into a heap in his belly at the thought of school. "The school here is a little different than you're used to, don't worry."

"The school _here_?" His mom sounded so squeaky that Frank knew there must be something weird about that.

"I think it would be best," was all Doctor Morrison said. "First, though, Frank, I'm afraid you're going to need to come and stay here for a week or two. We need to keep an eye on you while we stop your medicine, and teach you some shielding and things. Will that be okay?" She sounded like she was really asking him, like he could choose, so Frank bit his lip and thought about living in the Center. The way she'd been talking about the medicine made him decide it would probably be like the hospital, which meant it would be boring since they always kept him in there for ages and ages even when he felt completely better from the bronchitis or pneumonia or tonsillitis. If he was going to learn stuff, though, maybe it would be more like the boarding school place that Starblaze and Hyperboy lived at in his graphics?

"Okay," he decided bravely, straightening his shoulders to try and show his mom that he wasn't going to be a baby. "Will I get to go home after?"

"Of course," Doctor Morrison promised, nodding seriously as Frank looked up at her. "You can go home now, actually – we'll have a room ready for you for tomorrow, how does that sound?"

"Okay," Frank said again, nodding his own head. He felt sort of nervous, because he wasn't sure what it was going to be like here, and he hadn't really been away from his family before – even when he'd gone along on the trip to the New Light colonies when he'd still been six, the only time he'd been off planet, Dad and Grandpa had both been there the whole time. He wanted to see what it was like, though, and he had to represent the Ieros well as the heir, so he decided he was going to be brave, no matter what.

* * *

The medicine had made Frank feel fuzzy and twitchy a lot of the time, but stopping it was worse. The doctors – not Doctor Morrison, but a man with a grumpy face and a lady who looked like someone's grandma – had to keep on giving him the medi-sprays, and Frank could tell from their thoughts, louder every day, that they were putting less of the medicine into him each time. He felt as gross as any of the times he'd been sick for real; it was horrible, and so was the way everyone's thoughts were getting more and more insistent, the way his mind seemed to creep out past the edges of the bed, pushing against the walls and making everything rattle and fall over by accident. His mom could only visit on the weekends because of all the work she had to do for the House, and Dad called him a couple of times, telling him about the new ship that was due to arrive, but Frank felt too sick to listen properly. It sucked, and Frank felt more than once that he'd been suckered into agreeing to the whole thing.

* * *

"This is the school." Doctor Morrison pressed her hand over the door panel to unlock it, and pushed the door open. The minute Frank stepped through he could feel that the walls were shielded just like a ship's, the outside world fading out of his awareness. He kept up his shield, though, carefully imagining the smooth barrier all the way around him just like the Doctor had shown him. "We're a little early, so the other students won't be arriving for a few minutes. There aren't many, and most of them are from Family Houses, just like you."

Frank nodded, because that was familiar from his old school. This place looked a lot smaller, though, just one corridor with doors opening off each side and an archway at the end into a room where he could see couches and stuff.

"That's the rec area," Doctor Morrison said, clearly following his thought; Frank flinched and checked his shields again, but she shook her head. "You're doing fine, don't worry. It'll get easier with practice. This is the main classroom, here." She pushed open a door, showing Frank into a big room that didn't look much like the classrooms he was used to. There was a scatter of desks and chairs, all in different sizes and pulled into odd little groups instead of rows, and they all had their own terminal screens. There wasn't a teacher desk or a learning screen or anything, and the row of cabinets along the back wall were all painted with different colors and pictures, kids' doodles and fancy grown-up paintings. The walls were covered in pictures too, with wipe-boards in between; someone had drawn an awesome scene of a dragon and a unicorn fighting in the corner of one, underneath some complicated-looking math squiggles. Frank couldn't help but stare, impressed and kind of nervous. This must be a school for geniuses; he probably wouldn't know anything. His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Doctor Morrison waved a hand at the chairs set against the wall, beside a big window that looked out on a courtyard with a jungle gym and swingset as well as flowerbeds and benches and things. It was raining outside, so Frank couldn't even wish he was out there; the rain was sliding steadily down the window. "I'll go find Ms Kihara."

Frank was busy watching the rain out of one eye, drawing patterns against the arm of the chair with his finger and rubbing at all the places the material felt weird, when he _felt_ someone coming through the main doors into the school hall outside. That probably meant his shields were coming undone again; it was hard to remember to keep them together. Doctor Morrison had said it would be like breathing, one day, but Frank wasn't sure he believed that. He screwed his eyes shut, concentrating hard on building up his walls, and when he opened them again he jumped because there was someone standing in the doorway, staring at him.

"Hi." It was an older boy, pale skinned and dark haired and messy-looking and weirdly familiar, like Frank had seen him before sometime. He looked too old for grade school, but too young to be a teacher, probably. Maybe this place had different divisions, like the big public schools the city kids went to? Frank blinked as another boy peered around the kid's shoulder, examining him through the lenses slipping down his nose. He looked a bit like the older kid, but fairer and thinner and younger, maybe Frank's age even though he was probably taller. Everybody was taller than Frank; it wasn't fair at all.

"You're new," the older kid commented, and Frank jumped again as he felt a brush against his shields; he had to grasp hastily to keep them up, which left his mind feeling uncomfortably stretched until he could smooth it all down, his eyes crossing with the effort. The littler kid was totally snickering, even if he was nearly silent; Frank crossed his arms over his chest, feeling kind of indignant.

"So what if I am?" he grumbled, and the older boy blinked like he was surprised, then shook his head, smiling crookedly.

_Stop it, you're being mean_ , he said, and it took Frank a second to realize first that he'd said it with his mind, and second that he was talking to the younger boy, because aloud he said, "Hi. I'm Gerard, this is my brother Mikey." He took a couple of steps into the room, pulling the other boy – his brother, okay – behind him by the sleeve. "What's your name?"

"Frank." Neither of them had said a Family name, so Frank didn't either, even though Grandpa was always telling him to introduce himself proudly as an Iero of the House. The rules were probably different here. "Um, are you... Do you both go to school here too?"

"Uh-huh." Gerard shuffled over to the cabinets at the back of the room, opening one that had a tree painted on the front and starting to put his bag and his jacket inside. When he reached out a hand behind him, not even looking over his shoulder, Mikey's bag sailed right into his hands too. Frank blinked, looking between them, but Mikey was just watching him curiously, like he thought Frank might do something interesting if he stared long enough. It made Frank feel weird, so he watched Gerard getting things out of the cabinet instead, tablets and pens and a big book of drawing paper. Was he the one who'd drawn the cool dragon fight? Frank wondered, and he must have forgotten his shields again because Gerard turned around, smiling.

"You like it?" _Telepath, huh?_ his mind-voice said, and Frank nodded to both. Gerard's smile was really nice, sort of crooked but warm and not like he was just pretending to be nice to a littler kid at all.

"Uh-huh." Carefully, he tried to put his thoughts into order to say, _I'm still getting used to it_ , and he was pleased when Mikey looked up, too.

"Strong," was all Mikey said, but Frank didn't hear any meanness in it so he just shrugged one shoulder, carefully smoothing at his shields. "Gee is too," Mikey contributed after a moment, and Gerard sort of rolled his eyes but Frank could tell he was pleased.

"It doesn't exactly matter," he started to say, but broke off as another kid trudged through the door, curly hair held down by a big pair of headphones that were leaking music, and his eyes mostly on the floor as he made a beeline for one of the taller desks.

"Hi Ray," Mikey said in a quiet flat voice that Frank was sure the boy – he was older, too, like Gerard, so maybe everyone was all put together in this school? – couldn't hear past his music. He looked up, though, nodding to Mikey and Gerard as he started to set his things down and slide off the headphones.

"Hey." His voice was cheerful and squeaky, and he sounded so friendly when he said, "are you new? Hi! I'm Ray," that Frank couldn't quite find his voice.

"This is Frank," Gerard said for him, shooting a quick sideways look at Frank that made him feel warm, like they had a shared secret. He nodded and tried to smile at Ray, but right then there was a noise from the hallway that made him look up. A grown-up lady came into the classroom, shooing a pair of kids in front of her, and another bigger girl followed behind with her head tipped up as she chattered at Doctor Morrison.

"New kid! Hi!" One of the kids – a girl with dark skin and her hair in ruler-straight braids – bounded up with a grin, showing off a missing front tooth. Frank ducked his head in a sort-of nod, feeling suddenly nervous again, and Gerard cocked his head and opened his mouth to say something, but the lady – teacher? – clapped her hands right then, and everyone went quiet so suddenly that Frank stared.

"Good morning!" She had a nice voice, and nice eyes, Frank thought, and she was wearing the same sort of clothes that his mom did when she went to meet outside people. "I see some of you have already met our newest student. Now, why don't you stop crowding him for a moment and go get yourselves set up for the day. You should all have some reading left from your assigned books."

Some of the kids grumbled a bit, but everyone left Frank alone, then, sitting down randomly at desks around the room. Frank looked around, not sure what he was supposed to be doing, but he felt a little thread of reassurance in his mind, like a pat on the shoulder, and when he turned his head, Gerard was smiling at him and Mikey nodded seriously in a way that made Frank feel like he was cheering him on.

"Hi, Frank." The teacher lady came over and sat down in one of the seats near Frank's, balancing a tablet on her lap. "My name is Etta Kihara, and I'm one of the teachers here. Shall we get you set up with a locker and a desk so you can start your orientation?"

* * *

Orientation turned out to be code for a lot of boring stuff. Frank did some math, and some tests with lots of stupid shapes he had to find the difference between, and made a list of all the books he'd read in language class and on his own. A bell chimed halfway through the morning, right when he was starting to fidget in place, bored of sitting still, and all the other kids pushed back their chairs and got up. Frank looked around, but some of them were going to the lockers and some were going out the door, and he wasn't really sure which he was supposed to do.

"It's morning break." Frank jumped, and almost fell out of his chair; Mikey had snuck up on him, and was standing by his desk looking bored. Now that Frank knew he was there, he could _feel_ him, a fuzz of thoughts and feelings that moved a whole lot faster than his face seemed to want to. Gerard, standing a little way behind his brother, made a cough that was really a laugh, and Frank sighed, propping up his walls some more as Mikey rolled his eyes.

"I'm supposed to show you around," he said to Frank, and even though he sounded like he thought it was a chore, Frank could kind of tell that he didn't really mind. "Come on." He turned around and started out the door without waiting, so Frank scrambled out of his chair, hurrying to catch up.

"That's the bathroom." Mikey pointed to the door without looking to one side or the other. "That's the staff room, we're supposed to knock." Frank had to dodge between the other kids in the corridor, but they just seemed to slide around Mikey even though some of them were a lot bigger. "That's the science lab, that one's the kitchen." He was saying the names so fast that Frank was sure he wouldn't remember, but he could see that there were signs next to the doors with labels, even if some of them were just letters. "That's the place they use for telepath training," Mikey said then, actually stopping by one door and turning to blink through his glasses when Frank almost tripped into him. "You'll probably be in there a lot, like Gee."

"Huh?" Frank tried to puzzle that out; Mikey wasn't really the best explainer, he was starting to see. He jumped when Gerard, who'd been following behind, made another laugh-cough.

_You've got a high telepathy factor, right?_ he said right in Frank's head. It was weird and awesome, to hear someone's mental voice so clear and distinct. _You'll get lessons, same as I do, is all. If you have any minors – those are, like, other factors that aren't as powerful as your main gift, and they'll teach you stuff for them too._ "Like," Gerard said out loud, "my main thing is telepathy, but I have to get lessons in kinesis too, even though I'm barely a Factor Two really."

"Oh." Frank gnawed on that, trying to slot it into the things he'd already learned about psi factors. "Okay." Maybe that would mean he had to have lots and lots of lessons, since he was supposed to have lots of different skills? Frank really hoped he didn't have to stay in school much extra, though.

"Talk with one or the other," Mikey said flatly, the edges of the words dull like he said them a lot, and it took Frank a moment to realize he was talking to Gerard, not Frank himself. At least, he was pretty sure he wasn't mind-talking on _purpose_ , anyway.

_You're doing fine_ , Gerard said in his head, but out loud he said, "Sorry, Mikey," and pulled a face, shrugging his shoulders. "Come on, let's finish showing Frank around, he's hungry and I want a cookie before we have to go back to class."

"Cookies?" Mikey stood up straight at that, which made him a whole head taller than Frank. Frank kind of wondered how old he was – everyone in his grade at his old school had been taller than him, too, so it wasn't easy to tell.

_He's eight_ , Gerard told him silently, while Mikey pointed out the other doors they passed, naming the labs and classrooms so fast it was hard to keep up. Frank had to take three steps for every two of his, too; it made him really hope that his Grandma was right and he'd grow bigger when he was older.

"And that's the quiet room," Mikey said finally, pointing at the last door on the hallway. "It's for if you guys need to sit still for a while, I guess. Telepaths. If you get tired of shielding and stuff."

Once Frank managed to put those bits of sentences together enough to understand what Mikey meant, he frowned. "Aren't you a telepath, though?"

"K8, C6, P1," was all Mikey said, and Frank could tell from his shrug and the calm disinterest that radiated off his mind that it was just a normal part of his life. "I can hear Gee, but not anyone else."

"You can hear Grandma," Gerard corrected, but Mikey just shrugged, wandering a couple of steps ahead toward the open place at the end of the hall, where most of the other kids were clustered around in little groups. Frank hung back, unsure; there didn't seem to be all that many kids, not even as many as in his old class, but most of them were older than him, and all of them were bigger.

_No one will be mean_ , Gerard said in his head, and Frank turned his head to look up at him because that sounded like it was a promise. _It's not like there are a lot of us, you know? We have to stick together._ He grinned, sudden and wide and off-center, and Frank felt some of the uncertainty in his middle loosening. _C'mon, stick with me._

_Okay_ , Frank tried to say silently; he wasn't sure how well it worked, since he was trying to concentrate on his shields too. Doctor Morrison had said it was especially manners to keep shields up with other telepaths and stuff, so you weren't throwing your thoughts all over them by accident, and Frank thought that definitely sounded kind of gross so he was going to try his best to remember. He followed close behind Gerard across the rec room, around the big couch where two boys were playing a sports game on the holo (boring), to a big window with a window seat and beanbag chairs in a sort of circle. There was a girl sitting there already, reading something on a tablet, but she looked up and smiled at Gerard, and then Frank. She was older, too, but she had a friendly face and the sort of smile that made Frank want to smile too.

"Hey. I'm Lindsey," she said, putting her tablet down in her lap so Frank could see there was a picture on it, bright colors and curly lines.

"I'm Frank," he mumbled, trying to work out what it was supposed to be without staring too much. Gerard didn't seem worried about that; he tilted his head on one side to look at it before plopping down on the other end of the window seat, tucking his knees up. Frank tried to perch on the edge of one of the beanbag chairs, but it was so squishy he sank right in and had to flail his arms and legs and wiggle himself back upright.

"You okay there?" Lindsay asked, her mouth curling up at the corner, but she didn't seem mean. Frank's face felt kind of hot anyway; he nodded, staring down at his knees, and tried not to fidget. "So are you Gee's new sidekick?" she asked, which made Gerard look up too, even though he'd taken the tablet and was in the middle of poking at it.

Sidekick? Frank blinked. _Like Hyperboy?_ He must have thought that quite loudly, because Gerard stopped with his mouth open, before he'd even said anything. Frank didn't quite get it, but he thought he wouldn't mind being Hyperboy; he had cool powers and wasn't as much of a boring goody-two-shoes as Starblaze.

_You like Starblaze?_ Gerard's mind-voice was definitely excited, and he didn't seem to notice when Lindsey took her tablet back. Frank opened his mouth to say that of course he did, who didn't, but Mikey turned up again right then, collapsing down on a beanbag. A paper-packaged cookie lifted out of his hands and floated across the air toward Gerard.

"What about Starblaze? Here," he added, thrusting another cookie and a bottle of juice toward Frank and just holding them there in mid-air until Frank took them from him.

"Frank reads Starblaze too," Gerard reported excitedly, like this was important news. Frank still didn't quite get it, but he nodded hesitantly when Mikey turned to look at him, raising one eyebrow over his glasses.

"Cool. Did you see last week's?"

Frank nodded, struggling a little further upright; he'd read it while he was still staying at the Center. His mom had got him the new issues for all his favorite graphics, and all the ones he'd missed, even though he usually had to save up his own allowance for them. He'd felt the guilt so strongly in her mind that he'd given himself a headache from how hard he'd been trying to shield.

"Ray bet me five credits that Doctor Magnifico is working for the Unholy Union," Gerard said, waving one hand so wildly in the air that he jumped really obviously when it smacked against the window. "I think it's just a big fakeout, though, you know? It's too obvious, and _Beyond The Veil_ did a teacher betrayal arc last year –"

Frank nodded, because he remembered that, and nibbled on his cookie, watching Gerard's hands move as he talked. The cookie was really good, and even though it was obvious that Gerard and Mikey had both had this conversation before, they both kept looking at Frank like they cared what he thought. Lindsey joined in, too, and after a while the boy with the curly hair from before, Ray, came over too, and by the time the bell chimed again, Frank had forgotten all about feeling nervous or out of place.

* * *

"So, Frankie," Grandma said once Mom and Auntie Rosa had passed around the plates. "How was school this week? Are you being a good boy for your teachers?"

"Of course he is," Grandpa said loudly, tousling Frank's hair. Frank tried not to lean away; he'd been given the chair next to Grandpa tonight, even though it was usually Dad's, because Dad was staying late at the port, waiting for an overdue ship. Frank could feel that Mom was upset about it, but his shielding was definitely getting better now; he could block it out without too much effort.

"It was good," Frank said, watching while Grandpa served out the round beans with the little flourish he always did to show off his telekinesis. He was so hungry, his stomach felt like it was going to shrivel up into a raisin. Lunch had been _so_ long ago, and Mikey had accidentally eaten Frank's candy bar as well as his own (it really had been an accident; Frank could tell. Mikey had tried to sneak Ray's for Frank when he wasn't looking, and they'd had a weird game of kinetic keep-away that had ended up with chocolate chips going everywhere. Frank had laughed so hard he'd almost thrown up). Now that he was big enough to eat with the grown-ups, though, he had to be polite and wait.

"What did you learn?" Grandma served out some meat, putting two slices on his plate, and Frank tried his hardest not to make a face. It was roast runningbird, like usual, with a red gloopy sauce that didn't make it taste any less gross and chewy. She gave him lots of mashed potatoes, though, and they were the cheesy ones that Frank liked, so that was better.

"Um." Frank curled his hands in his lap so he wouldn't grab for his fork before everyone was served. "Lots of math and stuff, and me and Mikey and this girl Luce had to pretend to be First Founders for a history lesson, and I practiced shielding a whole bunch and Mr Taylor explained some stuff about how telepathy works." Frank still wasn't totally sure he got that; it had mostly been a lot of long words about electric magnetics and things, and he didn't really see how it mattered _why_ he could do stuff. "I'm supposed to practice more for homework, Gerard said he'd help."

"Gerard?" Grandpa said, all his attention so suddenly on Frank that the spoon fell back into the vegetable dish with a clatter as he let it go. Frank blinked, looking around the table uncertainly, but the way everyone was looking at him was so overwhelming that he looked down at his plate again, fiddling with the handle of his fork.

"Mikey's brother." He didn't understand the wave of interest that washed over him at that, making him accidentally bang the fork into the side of his plate. "He's a telepath too, like me, high factor. He's nice?"

"Probably trying to get info out of you, kid," Uncle Tony said, leaning over the table and almost dipping his shirt in the mashed potatoes. Aunt Rosa made a little noise and poked at him. "No morals, the lot of them."

"Huh?" Frank felt his mouth drop open at that, but no one seemed to pay him much attention; they were all looking at Grandpa, Uncle Tony making a hand signal and Grandma pursing her lips. Frank's Mom's eyes were totally narrowed, though, like she was waiting for something. Frank tried to loosen his shields a little bit, because it must be something bad, to make Uncle Tony say that about Gerard and Mikey.

"No, no." Grandpa waved them all away, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands over his belly. His mind was so turned-in that Frank couldn't pick up much more than the face of a lady he didn't recognize and so much vicious satisfaction that he shied away. "Let him make friends with the Way boys, by all means."

"Way?" Frank's mouth dropped open, and his fork clattered against the plate again. "But..." The House of Way had been the Ieros' main rivals in the trade Lanes for as long as he'd been alive; surely Gerard and Mikey couldn't be...

"Here," Mom said quietly, slipping a tablet out of her jacket pocket and bringing up a screen that she tipped toward Frank. It was the TradeBase page on the Way Family, and there underneath the pictures of the Head and the Heir was Gerard, stiff and uncomfortable-looking in formal clothes as he looked out of the screen.

"Oh," Frank breathed, staring. Now he knew why Gerard and Mikey had looked familiar; they were the Enemy. But... they'd been so nice to him, and shared their graphics and snacks, and Gerard hadn't once acted like Frank was a bother even though he was younger. Surely Frank would have noticed if they were doing it to be mean, or to learn Iero secrets, wouldn't he? He didn't even _know_ any secrets; sure he ran about the loading yards all the time with the other Family kids, but he wasn't allowed into meetings or anything because Dad said it was too boring for Frank to be able to sit still. "Should I n-not talk to them?" he asked, looking up at Grandpa. Mom put her hand on his back, and he could feel her trying hard to _send_ reassurance and good feelings at him, even though she was barely a telepath at all.

"No, no." Grandpa smiled down at him, patting his head and ruffling his hair. "There's no harm in making friends. And you'll be sure to remember who your Family are, won't you, son?" As clear as a bell, though, Frank could hear his thought, _We can use this._ He nodded hastily, ducking his head and taking a spoonful of potatoes that didn't taste of anything. He wasn't hungry any more at all.

* * *

Gerard and Mikey were already sitting at their desks when Frank got to school on Monday; he was nearly late, because Dad was going to a meeting at the spaceport so Frank had to wait around in the shuttlecar until he was ready, and then get dropped off at the Center on the way. He barely had time to stuff his bag into his locker and sit down before Ms Kihara came in and started assigning projects for the morning, so Frank couldn't do more than wave hello anyway. It was sort of a relief; he'd been thinking about it all weekend, even while he was playing with the new game Shaun's dad had brought him. After dinner on Friday Mom had taken him up to his room and sat on the side of his bed, explaining carefully that just because Grandpa had a quarrel with the Ways didn't mean Frank had to.

"He's stubborn, and he holds grudges far too long," she said, turning one of Frank's Starblaze action figures over and over in her hands. "You've inherited some of that, huh Frankie? It's not a bad thing," she added when he opened his mouth to protest, scrambling up to his knees. "So long as you're the boss of your feelings, and not the other way around, you'll be just fine. Your Grandpa had a silly quarrel with Gerard and Michael's grandmother, a long time ago. So long that he's the only one who even remembers, really. He should let go of it, because it would be good for the Family to be friends with the Ways. In business, it's always better to be friends than enemies – but you don't need to worry about that right now."

"Okay," Frank had said, more confused than ever, and his mom had sighed, running her fingers through his hair.

"You be friends with the Way boys if you want to, Frankie. That's more important than your Grandpa's silly grudge, okay?"

Frank couldn't really help worrying about it, though; what if Gerard and Mikey wouldn't want to be friends, if they knew who Frank was? What if they wanted to try and find out his secrets? He didn't think he had any secrets, except for the place out behind the compound where he liked to sit and watch the ships taking off at the spaceport, and the space underneath the drawer of his nightstand where he hid all his cool stuff so grown-ups couldn't throw it away.

The chime for morning break nearly startled Frank out of his seat; his elbow slipped off the desk and he hit his chin before he could catch himself, so his eyes were watering when he looked up to see a damp Gerard blur standing in front of him, with a Mikey blur behind his shoulder.

"Frank?" Gerard's voice was kind of flat, and his mind was all closed up and shielded, like he already knew about the whole thing and was only pretending. Frank's stomach swooped right down toward his feet, and he swallowed, trying his hardest to pull his own shields in close.

"Hi." His voice came out all miserable and small; he looked down at his shoes, sure that they were about to tell him they didn't want to be friends any more.

_Huh?_ Gerard made a sort of puzzled noise, and when Frank dared a look up, he was frowning. "Frankie, what? Did – wait, come on." He looked at Mikey quickly, and even though Frank was sure they were talking telepathically – Gerard was the only one Mikey could talk to that way, which was totally unfair, because Mikey was cool and funny – he couldn't hear them at all. Mikey nodded, though, and grabbed Frank's hand, tugging him out toward the hall. He moved so fast that Frank had to struggle to keep from being pulled off his feet; he could feel Mikey _pushing_ at the air and the floor, making the walls and the other students fly by in a big blur. They whooshed through a door, and before Frank knew it he was bouncing onto a couch in a room he hadn't seen before, his eyes wide and still wet as he tried to catch up with his breath.

"Whoa," he managed to stutter as Mikey plopped down onto the other end of the couch, skinny knees knocking together. His eyes were big behind his glasses, fixed on Frank. "Wh-where is this?" Frank looked around, because Mikey's stare made him want to squirm. The room they were in was small and sort of boring, white walls and brown carpet and nothing inside but the couch they were sitting on and two squooshy-looking armchairs. Gerard came through the door just then, closing it carefully behind him, and prodded at Mikey until he shuffled up the couch and made room.

"Quiet room," was all Mikey said; Gerard nodded.

"No one's gonna mind, it's not class time anyway." He put one hand up to his head, pulling and twisting at the hair behind his ear. "Frankie, what – I'm not trying to be nosy, you know, but you're – did something happen?" _Did I do anything?_ Frank heard, very clearly, but he couldn't really tell whether Gerard had meant to say it or not. He squirmed, uncomfortable, and kicked his feet together where they were hanging over the edge of the couch.

"Did the city kids mess with you," Mikey said in a quiet flat tone that both was and wasn't a question. Frank kicked his feet against the bottom of the chair so hard he bounced in place, and bit his tongue until he couldn't stand it any longer, but it was like a spring, or Ray's hair; the harder he tried to squash it all up, the more it wanted to burst out. Eventually, Frank couldn't hold onto the words any more.

"I'm an Iero," he blurted, wincing kind of pre-emptively, but all he felt from either of them was puzzlement. When Frank dared to sneak a look at them, they were blinking at each other like they didn't understand him at all.

"I know," Gerard was the one to say. "You're the heir, right? Second line, like me."

"Y-yeah." Frank screwed up his fists; Gerard's thoughts said even plainer than his face that he didn't get what the problem was. "You're the _Way_ heir. We're supposed to be rivals."

"Oh." Gerard's forehead wrinkled; Mikey just squinted at Frank like he was talking Ultharian. "Why?" Gerard asked, and Frank could tell that he wasn't just picking but really asking. He blinked, opening his mouth, and ended up gaping like a gulper fish when he couldn't find the words.

"I don't get it," Mikey announced; Gerard was just looking at Frank like he was trying to puzzle out all his secrets with his eyes, which made Frank uncomfortable so he wriggled back into the couch, crossing his arms.

"My Grandpa doesn't like your Family. Mom said he just had a fight with your grandma or something, but he doesn't like any of you, I don't think." It felt weird to say, like he was giving up Family secrets. "He always wants to have better ships and stuff, and make more – returns?" The more complicated parts of the Family's work and money were sort of fuzzy, mostly because they were boring. "He got mad when I said I was friends with you," Frank confessed miserably, looking down at his feet. He didn't want to say the other stuff – but maybe he didn't need to, because Gerard made a noise that sounded like he understood.

"I never even met your Grandpa." Mikey crossed his own arms, frowning furiously. "He can't stop us being friends."

_That'll do it_ , Gerard said, which didn't make sense to Frank at all, but out loud he said, "I don't wanna get you in trouble, Frankie. You gotta make up your own mind, I guess. It's your Family, you know?"

"Uh-huh." Frank sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it. "My mom said it didn't matter, but –" _I don't want my Grandpa to think like I'm spying on you guys_ , he told Gerard silently. _I don't want to, it's gross._

_You don't have to_ , Gerard said back, and it felt so like a promise that it made Frank feel better, warmer and lighter in his stomach where he'd been cold and heavy. "You know," he said in a voice like a story, "our Family is kind of weird anyway, right Mikes?"

"I guess." Mikey sounded kind of bored, and Frank thought (carefully and quietly) that he seemed like he'd heard that a lot.

"Totally weird." Gerard settled back against the arm of the couch, waving his hand around like he was drawing invisible pictures. "Our Grandma is the Head, you know, but she's not even a Way; it was part of the law stuff Mom and Dad had to do when they got married. The Families got joined together, and the only way they could all agree on it was to keep the Ways' name but have Grandma be in charge. Like – well, I guess you probably haven't read _Frankenstein_ , huh?"

"I saw the holo-series," Frank objected – he wasn't a little kid! – but Gerard flapped his hand dismissively.

"The book is way better, it's like totally ancient, pre-technology, Ms Kihara let me read it for Lit. Anyway, our Family is sort of like the monster, you know, all..." he made a weird motion with his hands like he was pushing things together, or maybe crashing cymbals. "Smooshed together, from separate parts. That's why your Grandpa's mad, probably." Gerard sounded so certain that Frank couldn't help but believe him, even if he wasn't really sure he understood.

"So we don't have to be rivals?" he hazarded, and Gerard nodded enthusiastically, beaming so brightly that Frank blinked.

"Right. Wait – no, I mean, you can be friends with who you like, you know? It's not anything to do with your Family."

"You're not your Grandpa," Mikey contributed, nodding much more seriously. Frank looked between him and Gerard, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I like you guys," he said. It felt like a decision, and Frank felt much better all of a sudden, the last remnants of the heavy weight dissolving out of his stomach. Almost immediately, it gurgled insistently, and he squirmed as he realized he was really _really_ hungry, and morning break was already nearly over.

"We like you too, Frankie," Gerard said earnestly, nudging at Mikey until he nodded agreement. _Us telepaths gotta stick together, right?_ "Come on, Lindsey and Ray are saving us snacks."

* * *

"Dad?" Frank poked his head through the gap where the door wasn't quite shut, peering around the office hopefully. He breathed a little sigh of relief when his dad looked up from the terminal and smiled at him.

"Hey, kiddo." He pressed the capsule that put the screen into neutral, sitting back and beckoning Frank in. "What's up?"

"Um." Frank pushed at the slider until the sticky door slid all the way back so he could come inside. It was maybe his fault that it was sticky; it hadn't been the same since he'd accidentally smacked his ball into the control plate last year when he'd put too much _push_ into it. "Are you – I don't get my homework," he admitted, curling his fingers around the edge of the tablet and kicking at the fancy Old Earthian rug. "Can you help me?"

"Well, let's see." Frank's Dad smiled again, and Frank could feel the fondness and amusement in his mind, weird grown-up emotions that were warm and comfortable even though he didn't understand them. "Is it math?"

"Nuh-uh." Frank shook his head. "Telepathy. There's long words." The textbook Ms Kihara had downloaded to his tablet hadn't made any more sense than the worksheets.

"Oh." Dad frowned at that, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. Frank pushed at his shields to make them stronger, carefully smoothing over the surface, but he still caught enough discomfort that it made him squirm a little. "Did you ask the encyclopedia?"

"Uh-huh. I still didn't get it," Frank admitted, and his dad sighed, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"Frankie, I'm no telepath. You got all that from your Mom's side, you know; maybe you should ask her." The contact made it too hard not to hear Dad thinking, _Couldn't it have been clairvoyance?_ which hurt a bit, because Frank was a C4 just like Dad, he had the test thingy from the Doctor to prove it and everything, he just hadn't had any special lessons for it yet. He hadn't had any special lessons at all except shielding and focusing his thoughts and this stupid homework about how telepathy worked that he didn't understand at all.

"She's out," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around his tablet and scowling at the floor. Dad sighed again, turning back to his screen.

"Right, the planning committee. Well, it's only Saturday, kiddo; you can get her to help you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Frank agreed, even though it wasn't really; Mom had said before she went to get into the shuttlecar that he had to do all his homework before he could go play with Jimmy and Shaun or turn on the holo or anything. Maybe if he _couldn't_ do the homework, that didn't count, he thought hopefully as he trudged back out of Dad's office. His mom's face popped up in his mind, though, stern and scolding, and Frank decided it probably wasn't worth the trouble he'd get into to find out.

Heaving a sigh that left his shoulders slumped, Frank stomped down the hallway to the big swinging door that led from the office wing into the living part of the House. As soon as he reached the stairwell he could _feel_ the commotion his cousins Little Tony and Louisa were making in the nursery on the other side; Frank made a face and groped out around him with his mind to make sure no one was coming. He still checked both ways, though, before he scrambled up onto the wide, smooth bannister, clutching his tablet tight to his chest and steadying himself with a _push_ to both sides as he slid down to the ground floor and hopped off, only stumbling ever so slightly on the landing. Total win; Frank grinned victoriously and trotted across the entranceway to duck into the downstairs back sitting room, which was small and weird-shaped and faded but had a comfy window seat he liked to sit in and watch the distant bustle of the workers at the shipyard across the valley.

House Iero was right on the edge of the city, near the port, which Grandpa always said was for convenience even if Frank knew it was really because the Family had used to be so small and poor that they had to build someplace cheap. Out back, past the compound wall, the ground dropped away so steeply down to the creek that it was still all overgrown with wild spicebush and tough, squat football trees. Frank had been forbidden all his life from playing there, and the only time he'd broken the rule, he'd broken his arm, too. It meant there was a clear view, though; some days, when the air was clear and thin, and the big ships were taking off with their cargo holds stuffed full of spiceleaf bales and fleeces from the Uphills and cases of tablet screens, the rumble of the engines echoed all across the valley to thrum through Frank's bones. Mostly the bigger ships had the Morrison or Sato crests splashed brightly across their sides, but Frank had seen the Ways' red and black too, and once in a while the Ieros' own star and anchor.

His tablet beeped at him when Frank shook the screen back on, reminding him that the worksheet still wasn't finished. Frank made a face at it and balanced it on his knees, squinting down at the words. They still didn't make any sense, and neither did the rest of the sentence that was supposed to be explaining why he could talk with his brain. It had taken Frank until he was _five_ just to understand that not everybody could. Doctor Morrison had said other people grew into it slower, though; maybe Frank could ask Mikey and Gerard what that had been like, since it sounded kind of weird.

Maybe he could ask Gerard about the homework. Frank sat up as the idea came to him, almost knocking the tablet onto the floor. Why hadn't he thought of that? Gerard had been at the school for ages, so he had to understand the stupid confusing worksheet. It was the best idea ever, except for how Frank didn't know Gerard's network ID, so he couldn't call him even if he could bother one of the grown-ups to let him use a terminal. He wasn't allowed to get an ID of his own until he was ten, which was totally stupid even if it was the law.

Frank slumped back against the window frame, frowning. There had to be a way; Gerard was a telepath, after all, so maybe if Frank really concentrated he could reach all the way out across the city to talk to him? He knew what Gerard's mind felt like, so he was sure he could recognize him, but it was a long way. A really long way; Frank knew where the Way House was, because they'd used to go past it in the shuttlecar on the way to his old school. There was an awful lot of city in between, lots of people and buildings and distractions. Frank chewed on the inside of his lip, considering, but now that he'd had the idea, he couldn't just _stop._

Wriggling back into the cushions until he was comfortable, Frank closed his eyes and concentrated hard, pushing out from his body until he could _see_ through the walls and past the edges of the house, groping out and out until his mind felt stretched out like a balloon. The movement of people and drones and shuttlecars was a constant tiny tickle, like ants or winterbugs; Frank had to grit his teeth to try and keep hold of his mind which wanted to spin off and follow every trail and corner. _Gerard_ , he thought hopefully, _pushing_ in the direction he thought led to the Way compound. He tried to make his thoughts loud and focused, concentrating so hard on the _feel_ of Gerard's mind that it felt like his own brain was going to leak out of his ears. _Gerard?_

_Whoa, what – Frankie?_ Gerard's mind-voice was full of surprise and astonishment, weirdly distant, but – _Hang on, let me... there._ It was like he reached out to meet Frank halfway; it felt as if he was holding out his hands, and Frank grabbed on, feeling instantly more comfortable and less stretched-out. _Like this, see?_ Gerard said, _showing_ Frank without words how to lock their mental grips together and narrow down the focus of his attention so he was only talking to Gerard. _I think you woke up every telepath this side of the city, there._

_Oh_. Frank squirmed a little, a guilty feeling settling into his belly. _I didn't mean to –_

_It's cool, don't worry about it._ Gerard grinned; Frank could feel it through the link, a flash of bright off-center amusement. _I totally did worse. One time Mikey knocked Grant right on his ass, too._ While the name was only vaguely familiar, the picture that came attached to it was of the Morrison Heir flying off his feet with a comically startled expression on his face. Frank giggled despite himself, and felt Gerard's answering smile filter down the invisible thread between them. _What's up, anyway, Frankie?_ he asked. _This is the first time you tried to tight-link to someone, right?_

_Uh-huh._ Frank squirmed, pressing his heels into the seat cushions. _It's stupid_ , he admitted when Gerard prodded expectantly. _I'm supposed to write about how telepathy and stuff works, but it's just all big words and I don't_ get _it._

_Huh._ Gerard sounded like he was frowning. _Well, I dunno if I get it either, you know, there's like complicated stuff with receptive spectra and broadcast tunneling that I don't even think anyone understands, really. Like, they're still discovering new stuff, right? But, I guess you don't need to know all the long words and shit – uh, stuff – damn._ His voice was so frustrated and apologetic that Frank couldn't help but giggle a little – mostly to himself, but he could _feel_ the way Gerard rolled his eyes around. He felt like with a little more effort, he could push even closer, all the way into Gerard's head to peer through his eyes, see what he was seeing, but Frank couldn't quite see where to start, and he wasn't sure he could do it without hurting Gerard anyway.

_I know bad words,_ he tried to reassure Gerard, instead. Grandpa cursed all the time; Grandma said 'like a sailor' which was another reference Frank didn't really get. _I'm just not supposed to say them._

_Great,_ Gerard said, and Frank caught a flash of thought about 'corrupting a minor,' whatever that meant, before Gerard pushed it aside. _Hey, why don't you tell me what you don't understand, okay? Is it that stuff about brain waves?_

_Um._ Frank cracked open an eye, trying to peer down at the tablet while still concentrating on the link. _Yes? It says ossy – oskylation?_

_Oscillation,_ Gerard corrected, _it just means waves. Um, did you start electricity yet in science? Or – oh, that one experiment on the holo where the guy made frog legs move by wiring them up? Totally gross, but it's like a real old science thing, from way back._

_No?_ Frank ventured, screwing up his face at the image Gerard sent him. That was _definitely_ gross.

_Well, whatever._ Gerard paused, and Frank thought he might be frowning. _It's like, okay. Brains work by electricity, right? All the little neurons, brain cells, whatever, they connect to each other like a circuit net, just like in a terminal, and they send electrical signals to each other and to all the muscles and stuff, to make them move. Not like grid power, not even sparks, just tiny little signals. You with me so far, Frankie?_

_I think so?_ Frank chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to picture his brain sending zaps of electricity around to make his body work. Maybe, he thought, that was why he sometimes felt a _jolt_ like something had shocked him?

_So, electricity is like waves, right?_ Frank got a strong mental picture right then of Gerard digging his hands into his hair, moving his lips silently while Mikey squinted at him worriedly. It made him kind of want to giggle. _Like light, and transmission signals, and reheaters and stuff. Electromagnetic waves, yeah? So, everyone's brains make sort of waves like that, just from working, but some people have a genetic factor that means they can send waves like signals, or pick up other people's. Like a communicator! Or, or they can pick up on other electromagnetic stuff around them, or affect it. Yeah?_

_Oh_. Frank frowned, thinking about that. _So, I can just listen to the waves? And that's why I hear thoughts?_

_Yup. It's kind of the simple explanation – like, there's a lot of stuff about different parts of the brain doing different stuff, and translation and magnetics and whatever, but it's kind of boring and you don't need to know it yet. Or ever, really, if you don't wanna._

_Okay_ , Frank said doubtfully; Gerard must have felt it, because Frank could feel _him_ grinning again. _I, I think I get it now, sort of. Genetic means it's like hair and eyes and stuff, right?_

_Maybe more like eyesight?_ Gerard sounded thoughtful. _Everyone has eyes, right, but some people can see better than others. Like Mikey, he can't really see past the end of his arm, but he can't get them fixed till he's older so he's gotta wear lenses._

_Really?_ Frank had to open his eyes and stretch his hand out, trying to imagine how that would be. Was it like there was nothing at all there, or all smeary like when he woke up with his eyes all gummy? Poor Mikey.

Gerard was laughing again, but it didn't feel mean; it felt like a secret, something just for them. _At least they know they can fix it_ , he said, and, _Oh, he's glaring at me. Hey, you think you're okay now, Frankie? I should probably go; you're gonna have a headache as it is._

Headache? Frank blinked. _Um, I think I can do it now_ , he said, and, remembering his manners, _thank you._

_It's cool_. Gerard's mental voice got a little more distant, the thread between them thinning out as he slid away. _Maybe next time just call me, though – I'll give you my ID at school..._ He was gone before Frank could point out that he wasn't old enough to have one, and Frank sighed, settling back into his own mind with more effort than he'd really expected. It felt sort of like he'd stretched himself so far that he didn't quite fit back the same as he had, and he was starting to understand what Gerard had meant about headaches. There was a tight achy pain starting up like someone was tightening a band around his head, and when he opened his eyes again a deep, sharp throb behind them made him gasp.

Carefully, Frank hauled himself off the window seat, clutching so tight to his tablet that the ache in his fingers shouted louder than his head, and put one foot in front of the other until he could shut out the world beyond his door and stagger over to curl up in his bed. If this was what happened when he talked to Gerard telepathically, he was definitely going to try the com next time, even if he had to beg his mom to let him use it.

* * *

Frank didn't get in _too_ much trouble for accidentally shouting across half the city, but Ms Kihara and Mr Taylor sat him down on Monday and explained at him about manners for so long that Frank was squirming with guilt by the end of it. It was okay, though, because Mr Taylor ruffled his hair and told him if he practiced hard enough at tight-linking and talking only to the person he meant to talk to, Frank could graduate out of basic lessons into the advanced class with Gerard. In the meantime, though, he had a whole bunch more exercises to do, and a new class in the afternoon, right after lunch.

Telekinesis was harder than telepathy, and it made Frank's head hurt in a whole different way. The first week, all he did was move a red ball around inside a field tank, trying to make it follow the little sparkling lines of laser guides the program spat out. It was more complicated than it looked; Frank had to start out just pushing it around the floor of the tank, and even then it kept rolling away from him. Some of the other kids in the class – Gerard's friend Lindsey had waved and smiled when he peered around the door the first day – had balls in all different colors that they were floating around in patterns, and when Frank asked, while they were sitting out in the playground at lunch, Mikey said he'd taken that class too. He demonstrated by picking up a handful of dry red and purple leaves and making them dance through the air in circles.

"Whoa." Frank kicked at the ground to stop his swing from swinging, reaching out to try and grab one of the leaves. It whisked out of his reach, hovering for a moment before Mikey waved a hand and it dropped to the ground along with all the others.

"That's easy stuff." Mikey huddled down into his hoodie, the chains creaking as he swung back and forth without moving his feet at all. Frank wondered if he could do the same thing, was contemplating the ground for the best place to _push_ when Gerard's voice seeped into his head.

_I wouldn't._ And a picture – a memory, Frank realized with a little shock – of Mikey flying straight up in the air, swinging so hard he went right around the bar and landed on his face in the dirt. _Broke his arm,_ Gerard commented, like it wasn't any big thing even though Frank could feel how scared he'd been in the memory. _And his glasses. You're not as high factor as he is, I don't think, but you could probably still hurt yourself real bad, Frankie._

"It's cool, though," Frank protested out loud, which made Mikey huff and _poke_ at him. Gerard rolled his eyes so hard the whites showed like marbles, and scrambled down off the jungle gym where he'd been sitting scribbling in his sketchpad.

"Whatever, I like not breaking myself. Can we go inside yet? It's freezing." He hunched down into his jacket, which he'd put on over his hoodie and scarf, until he looked sort of like a turtlefish, if turtlefish had really messy black hair with paint caught in the ends. Gerard must have caught the thought, too, because he _sent_ Frank a picture of himself sticking his tongue out.

"I'm not cold." Frank wasn't; he was just wearing his jacket so his mom wouldn't get mad at him. He hadn't been sick in ages, not since before he'd stopped the medicine, but she kept fussing at him to wear hats and gloves and eat sourfruit until his tongue shriveled up anyway. He could feel that Gerard was shivering, though, so he kicked his feet in the air one last time and jumped off the swing. "Okay."

"Finally," Mikey grumbled, clanking his swing to a halt and starting to shuffle toward the doors. "I want hot chocolate, Gee. Can we have hot chocolate?"

"Probably not," Gerard said, sort of glumly, and Frank had half turned to ask why not, and what was _hot chocolate_? It sounded good – when his eye was caught by a movement near the base of the jungle gym. Every part of his body went cold and wobbly all at once, his legs turning to jelly so that he had to stay very very still to keep from falling down or screaming like a baby.

"Frankie?" Gerard blinked at him, and Frank _felt_ him startle away from touching his mind, but he couldn't move to look at him. Mikey was the one to follow his gaze, tilting his head to peer under the bottom step of the jungle gym.

"Wood spider," he announced, and Frank flinched, still staring. If he didn't blink, it couldn't get him.

"Huh?" Gerard twisted to look at it – it was the size of Frank's _head_ , he was sure, thick-bodied and hairy with legs arching out in every direction. "Is that all – whoa! Frank!" He staggered sideways, arms caught between windmilling and clutching as Frank, who'd shrieked (like a _total_ baby, but he didn't even care) and leaped for safety when the spider moved, tried his best to climb Gerard like a tree.

"Make it go away!" Frank squeezed his eyes shut, clinging ferociously with his arms and legs as Gerard flailed around and tried to dislodge him.

"It's just a spider," Mikey said in a weird sort of tone; he probably _liked_ spiders or something, and he and Gerard were going to think Frank was just a stupid little kid, and Frank was never going to be able to be friends with them again, but... He couldn't make himself open his eyes. He just clutched tightly to Gerard's shoulders and struggled to keep his feet as high off the ground as he could, and after a few confused seconds Gerard caught hold of Frank's arms to steady him and patted clumsily at his hand.

_Mikey, shoo it off._ "It's okay, Frankie. C'mon, we're gonna go inside. See?" He took a couple of steps. "Look, you can open your eyes now, it's gone."

_Nuh-uh_. Frank shook his head blindly; it was still lurking, waiting to crawl all over him the moment he touched the ground. The sudden brush of someone new against his clenched-tight senses made him flinch so hard that Gerard staggered.

"Hey, why are you guys standing around out here?" The high-pitched, interested voice meant Ray. "What's up with Frank?"

"Spider," Mikey reported, and Frank could _feel_ Ray doing... something. It tickled in his mind, like hearing a conversation you couldn't understand, if you were hearing it with your skin or your eyes instead.

"Whoa, that's a monster one," Ray said excitedly, and Frank accidentally let a little whimper out and tried to scramble even higher on Gerard's back. He felt Gerard groan, even if he didn't do it out loud.

"Okay, for real, come on Frankie." Gerard staggered and heaved until he had Frank in a sort of piggyback. "We're gonna go inside, where there aren't any spiders at all. Deal?"

"Uh-huh." Frank nodded frantically, still squeezing his eyes shut so hard that spots burst and danced behind his eyes. He still didn't dare open them, much less let go, until Gerard shook him off onto the couch in the rec room.

* * *

_Hey, Frankie?_ Frank kind of blinked at the mental poke; he was sitting in the window seat of the nursery, zoning out in the sunshine while Little Tony and Louisa watched a boring kids' holo about being nice to your friends or something. There was a sheep with a smiley face that kept making totally stupid jokes.

_Huh?_ Wriggling upright, Frank yawned loudly. Neither of his cousins looked away from the holo. _Gee? What's up?_ Automatically, he reached out to catch the thread of contact Gerard was extending, twisting their thought-streams together and locking down the ends.

_We're out front; can you come out?_ Gerard's mind-voice was swift and tight with excitement; Frank hopped off the seat, staggering a bit as his legs took longer to wake up than the rest of him. The stupid cartoon sheep was doing a stupid dance; Little Tony and Louisa didn't even notice him leaving.

_Hold on_ , he sent back, checking around him out of habit before hopping up onto the bannister. _What is it? Did something happen?_ Mom was in a remote meeting, even though school was out for Colony Day, and Dad and Grandpa were off-planet setting up... something Frank hadn't been listening to. The nearest adult, when he _looked_ , was Aunt Rosa in the den, so Frank trotted in that direction, trying to poke at Gerard with his mind.

_Just come out, Mikey's here with me_ , Gerard said, which meant he didn't want to leave Mikey out by having a telepathic conversation. He was cool like that, except when he forgot, which was lots.

_Hold on!_ Frank _sent_ an image of himself blowing a raspberry, and poked his head around the corner to peer through the door to the den. It didn't seem like she was on a call, so...

"Auntie?" She didn't have any psi factors at all, not even enough to shield, so it was easy to stay on her good side. The nickname made her smile as she looked up from her screen. "Can I go play outside?" Frank asked, like he wasn't nearly eight (well, soon). "My friend from school's here, and his big brother."

"Well, I don't see why not." Aunt Rosa checked the time on her terminal. "How old is this big brother, and where do you want to go?"

"He's _twelve_." Frank made his eyes big. He was still linked with Gerard, who was snickering in the back of his head. "We just wanna go look at the laser show."

"Oh, over by the plaza?" Aunt Rosa nodded, and Frank could feel her silently approving of him as a good boy. Gross. "That's fine, but you'll come back by eighteen, in time for dinner, okay? And don't get too messy!" she raised her voice as Frank nodded frantically and backed up, darting for the door before anyone could tell him otherwise.

The doorcom pinged out a recognition as he smacked at the slider button – he still had to reach up on his tiptoes, and Gerard was still giggling in his head. _Smooth, Frankie._

_Shut up,_ Frank sent back, jumping down the front steps and scooting past the shuttlecar bays to the front gateway. It wasn't locked, and when he slid out onto the street-front, there were Mikey and Gerard sitting on the little wall at the edge of the roadway. "Hey."

"When you gotta be back?" Gerard asked out loud, and Frank shrugged.

"Eighteen. What is it, what happened?"

"Come on," Mikey said, hopping to his feet and setting right off in the direction of the spaceport. Frank looked at Gerard, but all he did was nod, all wide-eyed and excited even if he was totally trying to hide it, and mentally shoo Frank after Mikey. Frank sighed, and rolled his eyes, and went. He had to run to catch up; Mikey had stupidly long legs, and he was feeling totally resentful about that by the time they stopped, right where the roadway turned by the spaceport fence. Gerard sort of looked around, but Mikey just tilted his head and _tugged_ Frank after him by his sleeve, down the fence a little way and through a bunch of ornamental bushes on a path that wasn't even really a path, just a tiny little gap. Awesomely, though, Frank's pants and shirt and arms didn't catch on the branches at all, and he was so busy gaping back over his shoulder at Gerard struggling after him that he walked right into Mikey's back.

"What – oh. Cool." The garden plants opened up into a sort of clearing with a flat permacrete platform in the middle that looked like it might have had a building on, once. There were bits of bolts and wires sticking out around the edges, and a torn-down corner of wall at the other end.

"We used to come here a bunch," was all Mikey said when Frank asked; he plopped down on the edge of the platform, poking his toes into the dirt. "Gee, tell him."

"Tell me what?" Frank spun around, swallowing a giggle at the grumpy face Gerard was making as he picked bits of leaf and twig off the sleeves of the hoodie he was wearing even though it'd been summer for _cycles_ already.

"...You gotta promise not to tell." Gerard gave Frank a look that was even more serious than when he'd let him read his paper-edition graphics that time. Frank nodded, wide-eyed, trying to look serious and grown-up. "We're not supposed to know, like, it's not official or anything. There was a Class Three freighter scheduled to come into orbit this morning, but it's gone. I mean, _totally vanished_ ; no Lane traffic records, no distress signal, nothing." He leaned closer to Frank, like there was someone around who could hear; his eyes were shining. "It was _pirates_ , Frankie. Grandma had breakfast with the portmaster this morning, and there was a big," Gerard waved a hand frantically, "thing. It was a Sato ship, so they're going totally nuts about it, but they gotta keep it secret 'cause they don't want everyone to think they can't look after their cargo, you know?"

Frank thought about that. Gerard's excitement was kind of infectious, and not just because it was spilling right out of his mind. But... "If it just disappeared," he objected, "how do they know it didn't break, or, or get lost or something?"

"In the Lanes?" Mikey made a snorty noise that showed what he thought of that, and Gerard nodded energetically.

"Right, Minister Sato was in there this afternoon," he jerked his thumb toward the buildings over the fence, clustered around the spaceport terminal. "All her staff and junior Family were _freaking out_ because she said it had to be an inside job, because of the distress signal. Like, there's at least twelve crew on a Class Three just to fly it; how could you capture it without _someone_ hitting the emergency signal? Or without having a big fight that everyone else in the Lanes would see?"

"...Whoa." Frank sort of looked at Gerard's wide-open excited face, and Mikey's wide eyes behind his glasses that were staring earnestly at him like he was willing Frank to believe it. "I thought there weren't any pirates, any more." They'd learned it in school, how the Inter-Planetary and Inter-Stellar Transport and Freight Lanes had made traveling safe after the Foundation Wars and the post-Expansion chaos. Ships had used to be taken by pirates all the time, back then, and Shaun had told Frank stories of the ghost wrecks that were still floating out there somewhere, their dead crews rattling their bones against the empty hulls.

"No one will _say_ it's pirates," Gerard leaned closer, "but they're all _thinking_ it, Frank. I didn't pry," he added hastily, when Frank bugged his eyes at him. "I _didn't_ , they're just _loud_ , you know. You know, right?"

"Uh-huh." Frank nodded; people who didn't know how to shield shouted their thoughts a whole lot, especially when they were upset. He guessed a lot of people must be upset now, about the ship vanishing and Minister Sato being mad. If he let his own shields down just a little bit, and ignored the frantic buffet of Gerard's excitement and Mikey's silent vibration, he could feel it too, like a cloud of worry-fear-urgency that had settled over the spaceport and was spitting out thunder and lightning, making Frank's eyes cross. "Oh, whoa, that's..."

"You've got pretty good at shielding, huh?" Gerard said, for no reason that Frank could tell, but he shook himself like a dog when Frank blinked at him. "But, you know what this means, right? There _are_ pirates out there, still, there have to be, but no one wants anyone to know about it. The Council and the Families are lying to us, or... I don't know, just keeping it secret. What if this wasn't even the first time, but we just never knew? What if there's pirates out there all over the place, flying _outside_ the Lanes and just... picking off ships." Gerard made a weird swoopy movement with his hands, sort of like a hawklizard pouncing on a crawler, Frank thought.

"Killing people," Mikey said in the tone he had where Frank was never quite sure if it was a question or a reminder, or... he didn't know, but it seemed to make Gerard come back down to earth a little bit.

"Oh." He frowned down at his hands, and Frank could feel his mind working in a whirl. "But," Gerard said, slowly, and then didn't carry on for so long that Frank had opened his mouth to speak himself by the time he said, "if _I_ was a pirate, I wouldn't kill people. I mean, I wouldn't wanna, you know, _obviously_ , but it'd be too messy. Like, what would you do with them after?"

"Ew," Frank protested, but Gerard just flapped a hand.

"No, but, if you could get them to be on your side, you know? I totally would. Or, like, I'd only attack evil people's ships, if they were exploiting their workers or trafficking illegal subs and stuff."

"Like... in graphics?" Frank asked, at the same time as Mikey said, "Hero pirates," and Gerard's eyes lit up so bright that it felt like the excitement was spilling out of him in a wave. Frank could _feel_ his mind spinning out stories and pictures and colors even before he opened his mouth, and he scooted a little closer, listening avidly as Gerard took a deep breath and started to speak.

(He was very late for dinner. Mom was still out, though, so Frank didn't get scolded too badly.)

* * *

Frank was sitting on the Way compound verandah with Mikey, watching Gerard concentrating furiously over the chord patterns Ray was showing him on the real wood guitar he'd brought over, when Mikey and Gerard's mom came out of the House and cleared her throat.

"Frankie, sweetheart, your Mama asked me to let you know she wants you to go on home now."

"...Huh?" Frank blinked up at Ms Way – she always said he could call her Donna, but it felt too weird – and only belatedly realized that there had been an instruction there. "Oh." If his mom was calling the Way House to fetch Frank home, either he was in trouble or something was up. "Okay." He shoved Mikey's com set (that he was already stupidly attached to since he'd gotten it for his tenth birthday last month. Frank was totally jealous) back into his lap and scrambled up, stomping his feet into his shoes. "I'll just – bye, I guess," he waved to the guys – Gerard had looked up curiously from the guitar, though he still had his tongue poking out of his mouth and a furious crease between his eyebrows – and mumbled something polite to Ms Way before getting the hell out of there.

_What's up?_ Gerard asked in his head as Frank was skipping down the steps around the side of the house.

_I dunno_. Frank gave a mental shrug. _Mom said come home, so it's gotta be serious if she's calling your place, right?_ Not that his mom really cared about the stupid feud thing, but she did care about not upsetting Frank's Grandpa, since he was the Head of the Family.

_I don't know, I kind of get the impression they've been talking, maybe._ There was something... Gerard's tone was weird, and Frank automatically _pushed_ to try and see why, dodging around a cleaner drone that was trundling along sweeping the street. Gerard's mind gave seamlessly, absorbing Frank's questioning, but he broadened the link in what felt like apology, deepening the contact between them so that Frank could tell he was only pretending to concentrate on the chord Ray was showing him, and that the metal strings were hurting Gerard's fingers. The closeness was easy, their minds fitting together comfortably after all the cycles they'd shared classes, the only factor nine telepaths in the school and the only students to have special lessons with Doctor Morrison. It wasn't nearly as grown-up and fancy as it sounded; most Wednesdays Frank went home exhausted and with a headache stabbing at the back of his eyes.

He punched the button at the transit stop on the corner, telling the terminal where he wanted to go to when it asked him. _I want to go see the puppies at Matt's house tomorrow,_ he told Gerard while he waited; Matt had shown them a vid he'd taken, three squirmy brown watchdog pups with fat squishy little bellies, and promised Frank he could pet them. So far, Frank's efforts to persuade his Family that they should totally have a dog mascot hadn't been working out. _You should come too._

_Maybe._ Gerard sounded kind of doubtful, but Frank could feel his mind smiling. _He was gonna show me some of his music, though. His brother's gonna quit his apprenticeship and start a band, he says. You think that'd be cool?_

Frank shrugged one shoulder, hopping into the transit pod when it zipped to a stop in front of him and opened its side. _You'd hafta get better at guitar,_ he pointed out. Ray'd taught him some, too, and it didn't seem as hard as Gerard thought it was, but then Gerard could draw awesome pictures of stuff that Frank couldn't even doodle, so.

_Would you be in my band?_ Gerard asked, and there was a sort of – Frank thought it felt like happiness, maybe, that Gerard was trying to hide for some reason.

_Sure_ , he shrugged, hanging onto the handle while the pod zoomed along the roadway and attached itself to the back of a train that was going toward the spaceport quarter. Something made him add, _I'm your sidekick, right?_ He let Gerard see the memories at the front of his mind, the hero graphics they'd made up with Mikey, and all the stories Gerard had invented last summer about them being pirates and space rescuers and freedom fighters.

_You totally are_ , Gerard said, the link between them tinting pleased-red-embarrassed, but Frank could feel him pulling back again, part of his mind going distant and hidden. _Hold on_ , Gerard said suddenly, _Mom wants to – I'll talk to you later, okay? The assignment..._ and with that he was gone, their link dropped so suddenly that Frank wobbled for a horrible off-balance moment before he could pull himself and his shields back together.

The pod detached itself from the train just before the bridge leading over to the spaceport, whooshing to a halt at the edge of the street and settling down to the ground. Frank felt his feet trying to drag as he walked down the roadway toward the compound; he had a nasty feeling that he was going to be in trouble when he got home, even though he couldn't think of anything he'd done. Well, not anything that his mom would _know_ about, or at least he was pretty sure.

"Oh, there you are." Grandma stuck her head out of the parlor when the door clicked closed behind Frank. She gave the dirt on his shirt (from wrestling Mikey for the last cookie at morning break. Mikey had lost _so_ bad, but Gerard had eaten the cookie anyway because he wasn't paying attention) and the tear in the knee of his pants (from falling down when Frank had tried to see how far he could jump off the swing. There'd hardly even been any blood) a disapproving look, but shook her head, beckoning him over. "Come in here, young man."

That _definitely_ sounded like trouble. Frank gulped, and wiped his hands against his pants, and went.

He was expecting his mom; what he wasn't quite expecting was Dad and Grandpa, too. Frank hung back uncertainly by the door until Grandma shooed him forward, because the atmosphere in the room was prickly and hard to untangle. Mom had her shields right up, but Frank could still tell she was pleased about something, but Dad was thinking sharp, cold business thoughts full of math and advantages, and Grandpa's head was full of crankiness and the same old, polished-down anger he always broadcast whenever anyone talked about the Ways. Frank swallowed and went to sit at the table, craning his neck to try and peer at the screen Dad had projected from his com set. Dad noticed, like always, and flipped it off, but he reached over and ruffled Frank's hair anyway, and that made Grandpa smile and eased up some of the cranky feeling that was floating around. Frank wiped his hands on his pants again, mentally smoothing down and reinforcing his shields.

"Frankie, we have some news," Grandma said, sitting down next to Grandpa and prodding him until he relaxed a little more, rolling his eyes.

"Okay." Frank blinked around the table, caught between waiting for it and opening up his mind to let his family's surface thoughts give him some warning.

"Your mother," Grandpa started, and then cleared his throat loudly when Grandma poked him again. "Very well, _Linda_ has brokered and finalized a contract for the Family to become the major supplier for the new Stations out in the Kyraki system, at the Lane interchange for the mining colonies there." He paused for so long that Frank started to panic; what if that meant they were _moving_? "It's a large contract, too large for the Ieros to handle alone." That hurt Grandpa to admit, Frank could tell. "So we'll be working in partnership. With the Ways."

" _Oh_!" Frank bounced upright in his chair, but his mom shook her head fractionally.

"Donna and I are going to be looking after this," she said, quietly. "It means I'll be spending more time off-planet, but more importantly – Frankie, I need you to understand something, okay? I know you're friends with the Way boys, and that's part of the reason why we set this up, because there are a lot of opportunities that – well, when you're the Head, this will be really good for the Family. That's a long time in the future, though. Right now, I just want you to remember that even though we're working together on this one project, we're still the Ieros, and they're still the Ways. Do you understand what I mean?"

"...Yeah." Frank tried not to kick his legs, even though he wanted to. The thought was so clear it was as though it was floating in the air over the table: the Way House might not be the enemy, but they weren't friends, not for the Family. Frank could hear his Dad thinking far too loudly about what Frank would or wouldn't keep secret from Gerard and Mikey; it made him duck his head, clenching his fists on top of his thighs. "I get it."

Still, he couldn't quite keep himself from reaching out to Gerard again, once he'd been sent off upstairs to the nursery (even though he was nearly _nine_ , but Mom liked to say that whining about it defeated Frank's point). Gerard was full of excitement about the project, and spent a long time telling Frank all about the rare metals that came from the Kyraki system, and the things that were made out of them, and the state-of-the-art Stations that had only just been built to control the new Lane interchanges. Eventually, Frank just had to interrupt.

_Are we still gonna be friends, when we have jobs? Or when we're the Heads?_

_Huh?_ Gerard did that thing – Frank could feel it – where he sort of shook his head, like he was trying to recalibrate his brain onto a new course. _Where'd that come from?_

_I just... Grown-ups always want to talk about business and do better than other people, and stuff._ Frank frowned, poking his tablet to advance the page of his graphic, even though he was barely looking at it. _It seems kind of boring. I don't wanna not be able to talk to you about fun stuff, Gee._

_Well, who says you have to?_ Gerard sounded like he was settling in, his mental voice getting faster and more animated as his emotions bled through. _Like, I don't even know if I wanna be the Head, you know? Maybe I'll leave it to Mikey and make art and graphics and stuff instead, or something. The whole Family system is so fucking restrictive. ...Oops,_ he added, like it was the first time he'd cursed around Frank or something. (It wasn't even the tenth.) Frank could picture the little wavy gesture he made with his hand, even.

_But – what else_ is _there?_ Frank couldn't picture Mikey being the Head of the Way Family, anyway; he'd be right behind Gerard, whatever Gerard was doing. It was, like, a fact of life or something. He couldn't imagine Gerard running away, though, either. What would Frank do then?

_All sorts of stuff,_ Gerard said, sort of grimly, but no matter how Frank poked and prodded at him, he wouldn't let Frank see what he meant, just changed the subject to the new Starblaze holo that had been announced last cycle.

* * *

Gerard was being weird. Frank had come to this conclusion after – well, not all that much thought, actually, but it had taken him a while to really notice that Gee _kept_ inexplicably being too busy to talk to him. Even when he was around, during school and stuff, he was all distant and distracted, and a couple of times he just up and wandered off while everyone was talking, like he wasn't even paying attention when usually he was the one who wouldn't shut up. After the second time, Frank decided to ask Ray about it, since obviously he couldn't ask Mikey, and Ray was the same age as Gerard so maybe if it was some gross growing up thing then he'd know about it. Ray just squinted at him, though, tipping his head to the side so all his curls boinged and shivered.

"Dude, how would you even tell?" When Frank just stared, waiting for the explanation, he shrugged one shoulder. "Gerard's kinda... you know?" Another shrug. "I don't know, you know, I think maybe he just, like, has stuff on his mind? He was talking to Lindsey after class yesterday..."

There was a tone in Ray's voice there that Frank didn't quite get, but it wasn't hard to pick up from his surface thoughts. He was thinking that maybe Gerard liked Lindsey, which Frank didn't understand because of course he did, but – oh. He meant _liked_ liked. "Huh." That... Frank wasn't sure how he felt about that, or if he believed it; surely he would have noticed if Gerard thought about Lindsey, or anyone, in gross ways? He had good shields, but stuff always seeped around the edges and through the cracks, and it wasn't like adults didn't think about that kind of stuff all the freaking time. _Totally_ gross.

"I don't think he's, you know, _not_ okay," Ray said earnestly, clutching at the neck of his guitar case with both hands. "You'd know, right? And, I mean, _Mikey_ would, totally."

"Yeah." That didn't really make Frank feel any better, though. It wasn't like he was jealous of Mikey, except in the way where he kind of half wished he had a brother too, but Gerard was his _friend_ , wasn't he? Of course he was, Frank decided, staring out the classroom window later while he was supposed to be reading about the French revolution (even though he wasn't quite clear on where France had been, apart from somewhere on Old Earth, or why it was important). Gerard was just busy, with all the school things and art things and Family things that he had to think about, and Frank was still just a kid, even if he was finally old enough to have a com set and a net address.

Still, when he stomped down the Center steps at the end of the day, the sight of Gerard and Lindsey standing way over by the wall, talking with their heads close together while Mikey leaned on the transit stop typing on his com... Frank could feel the grumpy, prickly place inside him puffing itself up even more, and he kicked at the bottom step until the transit pods arrived, gritting his teeth against the spreading ache in his foot and refusing to look anywhere but dead ahead.

* * *

Frank was on the way back to the House from the park a couple of streets down, herding Little Tony and his cousin Jack who was visiting and had an actual real _skateboard_ that his mom had made him, when a shuttlecar whooshed past down the street. Not that that was anything unusual, but something, like a brush of familiarity against his mind, made him look up just in time to catch sight of Gerard through the tinted viewport. All he really _saw_ was a glimpse of his face, pointy nose and mess of hair in his eyes, but Frank _knew_ instantly that it was him, and he was reaching out before he could even think about it, mentally chasing the shuttlecar even as it disappeared down toward the city.

_Gerard?_ Frank grabbed hold of Little Tony's sleeve before he could topple off the skateboard, ignoring his complaints. He could _feel_ Gerard's surprise, as well as his hesitation before he finally reached back to Frank, completing the link and opening up to him.

_Frankie? What?_

_You just went past me,_ Frank pointed out, because he was used to Gee being unobservant. _Are you going back home?_ That didn't feel right, though; this street was kind of out of the way, especially for the Way compound.

_Meeting_ , was all Gerard said; Frank could feel that he was nervous, though, and uncomfortable.

_Oh._ Frank grabbed at Little Tony again to stop him zooming away (and probably falling under a transit pod). _Grandma made me take my cousins to the park_ , he told Gerard, opening up the link a little bit so Gee could see how this was both a total chore and kind of fun despite that. _I got to ride on Jacky's skateboard, and I want one._

_I thought you wanted a hover,_ Gerard said back, but Frank could tell he was distracted, like he was paying most of his attention to someone in the car with him and just humoring Frank. It made him so mad, so suddenly, that he stopped still in the street, almost yanking Little Tony over.

_Fine, I won't talk to you when you're_ busy _,_ he sent, and shut off the link, snapping himself back into his mind so sharply that a warning ache throbbed behind his eyes.

_What?_ Gerard followed him, of course, because he was _Gerard_ , brushing against Frank's mind with what felt like honest confusion coloring his tone. _Frankie? What's – shit_. His touch thinned out for a second, pulling away. _I gotta go – I'll talk to you later, okay? Frankie?_

_Whatever_ , Frank said, sort of unwillingly, but he could feel Gerard dithering, working himself up into a mess, and even if Frank felt sort of like he deserved it, he didn't actually want to screw up whatever Gerard was doing. Well, not much.

He was still pretty mad, though, and even though he kind of calmed down some while he was playing his newest holo game that evening, a little flicker of guilt starting up at the back of his mind, Frank definitely wasn't above ignoring Gerard's attempts to contact him. The first time was while he was watching _Blue Field Crisis_ in the den with Aunt Lila and Jacky, so it was easy to tuck his shields in tight and just pretend he wasn't even there, and Gerard pulled back easily enough when he didn't answer. The second time, Gerard caught him right as he was climbing into bed, book already loaded up on his com screen (less convenient than reading on his tablet, but the novelty definitely hadn't worn off yet), and Frank couldn't shield quickly enough.

_Frank?_ Gerard's mind-voice was tinted with hope and nervousness, and Frank hesitated for just a moment before the angry feeling rolled back in and he shut his mind tightly, yanking the sheets up over his lap so hard they stung his fingers. No, he thought, very privately, and obstinately ignored the prompting brush of Gerard's thoughts against the edge of his mind. Gerard didn't get to act all weird and ignore Frank whenever he wanted, then just pretend like everything was okay when it wasn't, it wasn't at all.

_Frankie?_ Gerard tried again, but Frank gritted his teeth and refused to respond, staring down at his book, and eventually Gerard gave a sort of mental sigh and withdrew. Good, Frank thought, but it didn't feel satisfying, it just felt – empty. Lonely, even though he was definitely still mad. He wriggled down into his bed, tipping over onto his side so the com screen had to blink and reformat itself, and tried to concentrate on reading. It was a totally good book, an Old Earthian classic about secret wizards and witches that Ms Kihara had put on Frank's reading list, but no matter how many times he went back to the top of the page, reading over every word, by the time he got to the bottom again he couldn't remember any of it.

Frank was just about to give up, reaching for the projector button to flip off the screen, when the com chimed, a message notification popping up in the corner. The sight of Gerard's name made Frank's heart thump all sudden and startled, but the stupid sad face he'd put in the title – just _:(_ like _Frank_ was the one being a jerk – almost made Frank turn the com off anyway. It took him a minute of chewing on his lip to even make himself flick the message open, but all it said was, _are you okay?_ _Did I do something?_ Before Frank could even react to that, let alone reply, another message pinged through, from Mikey this time: _what did u do 2 G dude?_

_Nothing._ Frank typed back to him, still staring at Gerard's message. Mikey's reply popped up almost immediately, _dude he's freakin out, talk 2 him or somthin._

"Fine," Frank grumbled, even though Mikey definitely couldn't hear him, flopping over onto his back and holding the com up so he could see the ceiling through the screen. _Stop acting weird,_ he typed back to Gerard, poking at the glowing letters so hard that he had to keep erasing where they repeated themselves.

Gerard took so long to reply that Frank almost gave up and went back to his book. When his message did come through, all it said was, _What?_ Frank rolled his eyes and hit Reply.

_You're being all weird and ignoring me and everyone._ Except Lindsey, he didn't say. _If you don't want to talk to me any more because I'm a kid, just say it. Don't pretend like I don't exist._

Not even two seconds after he'd pressed _send_ , Gerard's thoughts crashed against his shields, startling Frank so badly he dropped the com set entirely. The image pressed into his mind was of Gerard, wide-eyed and shaking his head frantically, _no no no,_ and Frank couldn't help but open up to meet him.

_Frankie, no – I swear I didn't mean to – I'm not ignoring you_ , Gerard said, all at once so that the sentences got tangled together. It was the feeling behind them that made Frank gasp, though, apology and regret and the need, as clear as if the emotion was his own, to make Frank understand he wasn't being shut out on purpose. Frank swallowed at that, and _pushed_ back into the link a little, letting Gerard see all the times he'd looked past Frank, had walked away, the miserable angry feeling of not understanding _why_ it had changed.

_Oh_. Gerard drew back at that, but before Frank could even flinch, he deepened the link, wrapping his thoughts around Frank's in a sort of mental hug. Frank gasped, and clung back, feeling himself relax into it, like he was melting into Gee for a few long moments before Gerard made a mental sigh and pulled carefully, gently back into their usual easy link. Frank couldn't help but think that he'd missed this, even though he knew Gerard would catch the thought.

_I'm sorry,_ Gerard said, with a sort of mental hand-squeeze. _I didn't mean to – I've just been thinking a lot, you know, and – there's some stuff I guess I can't tell you, Frankie._

_Because I'm a kid,_ Frank said, testing, and unable to resist a _push_ to try and find out. Gerard just deflected him, though, shields flowing and shifting easily around whatever it was he didn't want Frank to know.

_Because it's not all mine to tell you_ , Gerard corrected him, and Frank did get a flash of something that time, a quick burst of worry-anticipation-helplessness that Gerard cut off so fast Frank almost thought it might have been his own feeling. When he pulled back, though, letting the link drift a little so he was less swamped by Gerard's conscious thoughts, Frank could feel just how preoccupied Gee really was, whatever he was shielding like a constant background buzz of stomach-twisting nerves. It was so strong, despite the barriers...

_Are you in trouble?_ Frank blurted, and he felt Gerard startle back before laughing. It felt, Frank thought (carefully, privately), like he was forcing it.

_Of course not, Frankie._

_I'd help, you know_ , Frank pressed, trying to _show_ Gerard he meant it. _Even if it was, like, the Peace Keepers, or supervillains. Or your Family._ He wasn't really sure what he could do about any of those, but he'd do _something_. Something awesome.

_You're the best, Frankie,_ Gerard said back, and even though Frank could feel the real smile in the thought, it still felt too much like a pat on the head. He didn't miss the way Gerard changed the subject, either, to the boring homework he had to do for his language tests next month, or the undercurrent of worry at the back of every thought, the way he spoke fast, like time was running out.

* * *

Three nights later, Frank came awake so hard that he fell right out of bed in the dark, crashing down onto the rug with a thump that jarred all the breath out of him. For a moment he thought it was the dream that had woken him; he'd been trying to climb up something, or get to someone, he thought, but it was all sliding away from him as he struggled to breathe again, staring up at the pattern of purple moonlight that slid over the top of the shade.

_Frank?_ Gerard's voice pressing against his mind didn't even surprise him; Frank struggled upright, shaking out the arm he'd landed on. _Are you awake?_ Gerard went on, his mind-voice sharp with something – excitement? Or panic? Frank shook his head, trying to settle his thoughts back into place.

_I am now. What is it, what's wrong?_ He couldn't help the worry that crept into his own tone; he'd spent the last two days at school trying not to think about what kind of trouble Gerard could be in that he wouldn't let Frank help with. In the dark, with the House and the city asleep around him and Gerard's mind bleeding urgency through their link, it rose up like a wave of dread, threatening to swallow him.

_No, I'm sorry, just –_ It was like Gerard cut himself off for a moment, dropping out of the link almost entirely before coming back. _Did you mean it, that you'd help me? I was gonna – we had it set up, it was gonna be fine, but something happened, I don't even know... We gotta do it now, and Mikey won't stay the fuck home – can you get out, you think? I don't think I can manage myself, not for all of us._

_What?_ Frank couldn't make much sense of that, Gerard's thoughts were jumping about all over the place, but if he needed his help... _Where are you?_ he sent, tilting his head to _listen_ to the house. Apart from Uncle Tony drowsing in front of some holo in the back sitting room, everyone was asleep. Frank fumbled his way over to the closet, grabbing for clothes so he could change out of his pajamas.

_End of your street_ , Gerard replied, and, _Are you sure, Frankie? We could get in trouble, like,_ real _trouble._ Frank could feel the excitement that filtered through the link, though, and it sent a little thrill shivering through him too as he scrambled into pants and a hoodie. He _reached_ for his sneakers with his mind, floating them behind him as he cracked open the door and tiptoed down the hall. If he tried to go out the front in the middle of the night, the security monitor would freak, but there was a spot in back by the compound wall...

He had to stop on the back porch to stamp his feet into his shoes, but climbing the tree was easy; he'd done it a hundred times. Getting over the wall was trickier; Frank's hand slipped off the branch too soon, and there was a sickening lurch of falling for a moment before he could gather his wits together and _shove_ toward the ground to cushion himself. He still scraped the heels of his hands on the rough gravel of the path, and the Fernandes' watchdog next door started barking from the noise, but Frank took off running and it had shut up by the time he reached the street.

_Gee?_ Both the moons were up; it was totally bright, and Frank examined his stinging palms, picking out crumbs of dug-in stone. He wasn't even bleeding; score.

_This way._ It was like a tug on his mind, and Frank turned automatically, trotting up the street. It must be really late; there weren't any shuttlecars out, the air silent and cool. He couldn't see Gerard, but he could feel him, the hum of his mind behind his shields, so Frank only jumped a tiny bit when a hand darted out of the bushes and tugged him off the street.

_Gee?_ Frank didn't need to ask, really, but he was still blinking his eyes to try and get them to see properly; they were crouched in the shadow of the traffic board at the intersection.

_Shh,_ Gerard hissed mentally, then seemed to realize what he'd done. An amused huff – nearly silent – was definitely Mikey, but he was just a smaller, skinnier shadow lurking behind Gerard. There was another shadow, though, and Frank had reached out automatically to _see_ before he realized that of course it was Lindsey.

_Hey, Frank._ He could feel how she had to concentrate to project the thought; it was her weakest psi factor, he was pretty sure, after kinesis and electro-manipulation and the cool stuff she could do with lights. _Sorry to wake you up,_ she said, even though Frank didn't mind that at all – he'd have been sorrier to miss this, whatever this was. Some kind of adventure, he was sure.

_What's up?_ Gerard was acting so twitchy that he didn't quite dare talk out loud, and maybe it was infectious because Frank found he couldn't stand still either. _Are you in trouble?_ It was hard to imagine what sort of trouble Gerard would need his help with; Frank bit his lip to keep from bursting out with all his questions, and stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, trying to be cool.

_No – maybe – ugh, Frankie –_ "This was a bad idea," Gerard muttered out loud, and Frank bristled a bit, puffing himself up as much as he could manage. He wasn't a little kid any more, even if he wasn't nearly a grown-up like _some_ people.

_That's not what I meant – fuck, right, time,_ Gerard interrupted himself when Lindsey made a quiet sound. _We gotta go, okay, but I'll explain on the way. Come on._ "This way," he said, barely out loud, peering really obviously around the signs to check for traffic. Frank could have told him there still wasn't any; the roadway was swept and empty in both directions.

_Where are we going?_ Frank asked, following carefully in Mikey's footsteps as he followed Gerard. Mikey still hadn't said a word to any of them, but in the light of the moons that criss-crossed the street, Frank could see that his face was set in a ferocious frown of concentration.

_Spaceport,_ Gerard said – just to him, Frank thought; it made him feel weirdly better, even though he was tagging along at the back end of the group behind both Mikey and Lindsey. Out of the shadows, he could see that Lindsey had a bulging, heavy-looking duffel bag hanging off her shoulder. _We gotta – fuck_ , Gerard stumbled over a rock at the edge of the path, arms flailing wildly until he caught his balance. _We're gonna have to sneak in; you gotta help me distract the guards, Frankie._

_What?_ Frank blinked, and almost tripped over his own feet. _That's – isn't that, like, against the law?_ That was big, _big_ trouble; even when he was only tagging along with Dad to watch the ships, Frank had to get his ID chip scanned at all the security points.

_We had it set up, but they had to come in early._ Gerard's mind-voice was almost vibrating, like he'd be curled up in the corner of his room having a total freakout if he didn't have to be here doing this. Frank could feel it through the link, that he _had_ to do it, that Gerard was almost as scared of what would happen if he didn't as what would happen if they got caught. _I didn't want you involved, or Mikey, but I can't –_

"Shuttlecar," Mikey interrupted, not even whispering; Frank immediately tried to peer down the street, pushing out his senses, because _he_ couldn't see or hear anything, but Lindsey grabbed his sleeve before Gerard was even done cursing. She pulled Frank off the path into the shadow of the bridge pillar, and Gerard shoved Mikey in too, crowding up behind them with his face turned away from the light.

Frank's own breath sounded so loud that he couldn't hear anything else; he _felt_ carefully outwards, trying to ignore the uncomfortable way he was squished in between Lindsey and Mikey, who were both taller than him. It still took him a horribly long second to find the shuttlecar, coming toward them from the other side of the bridge, and Frank felt his heart starting to beat faster, because it was coming from the spaceport, and what if they _knew_?

_It's just the second security shift going home,_ Gerard said firmly in his mind. _Shields, Frank – there's gotta be telepaths there somewhere, we have to be like ghosts. Fucking, ninja, yeah?_

_Ninja ghosts,_ Frank said back, concentrating furiously on pulling his shields in tight and solid as the shuttlecar hummed closer and closer and – passed them, heading down toward the city. Frank breathed a sigh of relief, and felt the others do the same. Well, except Mikey; he just seemed kind of vacant, more like he was waiting to see what would happen than anything. Frank prodded at him when he didn't move quickly enough to unsquish them from their hiding place.

_He's being an early-warning system,_ Gerard told him; he had one hand snagged in Mikey's sleeve, steering him around the corner onto the bridge. "Come on, guys, quick," he whispered, breaking into a shuffling run as they headed across the brightly-lit span.

Another shuttlecar whooshed out of the spaceport gates right as they came round the bend in the hill, and Frank watched, confused and uncertain, as Lindsey and Gerard whispered to each other in the ditch they were hiding in, their heads tucked close together. When he looked away, Mikey was looking right at him over the tops of his glasses, even though Frank knew he couldn't actually see very far at all, let alone right into his head. That didn't stop the squirmy, uncomfortable feeling from twisting its way up his throat, though.

"Coast's clear, Gee," Mikey said, clambering to his feet even though the gates were right there at the end of the roadway, the tall wire links of the fence and the red shimmer of the security field stretching away along the edge of the hill on one side and the shuttlepark on the other. "Do it now."

"Do what?" Frank scrambled up, too, wiping mud off his hands onto his pants. His knee was stinging a bit where he'd scraped it on a rock; when he poked at it, his fingertip came away smudged with a smear of blood, so he wiped that off too, making a face.

"Shh," Gerard hissed, even though Frank was being totally quiet. Frank made a face at him, and he was kind of pleased to see Lindsey rolling her eyes, too. Gerard was definitely working himself up into a great big freakout, but Frank's usual remedy of distracting him with awesome questions about graphics (and, when all else failed, sitting on him until he stopped) wasn't going to work right now. He gave Gerard a mental poke, though, reaching to link with him and try to smooth away some of the freaking-out-ness.

"Okay," Gerard said, taking a big breath, then, "Okay," again, like he'd forgotten he'd said it. "Fuck. Frank, you gotta help me, okay? The guard shift's just changed, we gotta distract them so we can sneak by. You think you can shield Mikes and Lyn-Z as well as you? I'm gonna do the distracting part, but there might be other telepaths, you know?"

"Uh-huh." Frank frowned, thinking it over. "Like, _totally_ shield us? Nulled out?" Keeping his own mind blanked out and invisible was hard enough; two other not-very-telepathic brains on top of that...? "I think so?"

"It's really important." Gerard was giving him a _look_ , and Frank could feel his seriousness through the link, the tight focused hum of his mind totally different to anything Frank had felt from him before. "I know you can do it, Frankie."

"Okay." It wasn't like Frank could say no, anyway; he was gonna give it his best shot, if that was what Gee wanted. "Aren't there, um, cameras and stuff, though?"

"Let me worry about them," Lindsay said, wiggling her fingers with a little spark and pop of static electricity that leapt into the ground. She giggled, once, a little hiccup of laughter that seemed to get away from her, and Frank could see that her hand was totally shaking before she tucked it back under the strap of her bag. It had to be really heavy; it was cutting into her shoulder, but she held onto it like she wasn't ever going to let go.

"Okay," Gerard said again, pointlessly, _nudging_ at Frank through their link. Frank nodded, closing his eyes for a second to concentrate on his shields. Once he was sure he had his own mind wrapped up tight and invisible – it was like wrapping himself in a blanket, fuzzing up the edges until they blended seamlessly into everything else – he stretched out, groping for the edges of first Mikey's shields, familiar and easy, and then Lindsey's. He could feel her trying to help, tucking her mind in as tight and quiet as she could, so Frank could cover all three of them in a blanket of mental white-noise. It was a little bit of a stretch, but not uncomfortable or anything; he set his jaw, concentrating.

Gerard must have felt when Frank was done, because he breathed out a long, ragged breath, clenching his hands into fists, and nodded. _Come on,_ he whispered, turning determinedly toward the distant spaceport gates. Frank grabbed hold of Mikey and Lindsey's sleeves, to keep them close, and hurried behind.

Mikey pulled them to a stop just out of range, he muttered, of the recorders up top of the gates. Gerard turned to look at Lindsey, who tugged her sleeve carefully out of Frank's grip, taking a step forward. Frank held his breath, waiting for a spark to flash or an explosion, but nothing happened apart from Lindsey swaying a little on her feet, her eyes going blank and distant as she twitched her fingers slowly in mid-air.

"There," she said eventually, sagging into herself a bit. Gerard reached out like he wanted to prop her up, but she waved him away. "It's okay – I looped the circuits, so we've probably got 30 minutes max before they auto-reboot."

"Right." Gerard pulled himself up straight, squaring his shoulders. "Mikes?"

"One guard," Mikey reported, slouching a little closer to Frank. "The security drones are powered down, but they have the barrier field up."

"Fuck. Linds?" Gerard turned to her, but she waved him away, nodding.

"We've got to, Gee, it's nearly time."

"Fuck. Right." Gerard broke into a loping, jarring run, waving them to follow. Frank grabbed Mikey's hand in his, tangled the other in Lindsey's sleeve, and took off after him, concentrating so hard on his broadcast shield that by the time the security field across the gateway was looming in front of him, his eyeballs felt like they were about to burst. Gerard started to stop, but Lindsey didn't even slow down, dragging Frank and Mikey with her as she waved a hand and the red glow of the security field fizzled and went out. Frank's own breathing and the soft thud of his footsteps sounded as loud as lift-off; he was sure the guard must have noticed them, but all he heard from the security booth was a crash of something breaking and the sound of swearing. Lindsey was already dropping to the ground, shoving her duffel in front of her and crawling underneath the barrier. Frank threw himself down to squirm under himself, and by the time they'd dragged Mikey and Gerard after them and squeezed themselves into the shadows in back of the guard booth, barely breathing, the field was already flickering back into life with an electric hum.

_Fuck,_ Gerard said in his head, along the tiny thread of their link, _I think we made it. Nice one, Mikes; she's still trying to mop that up._ He meant the guard; Frank could still hear her muffled voice cursing above and behind them. Mikey shifted a little against his shoulder, a fraction of a shrug, and Frank was still wondering what he'd done when Lindsey took a breath and pushed herself carefully up to a crouch. Right, Frank thought, they had a mission here. He wasn't really sure what it _was_ , now that they were done with the sneaking-in part, but he guessed it had to be important.

_Which way now?_ He asked Gerard silently, and almost forgot to keep hold of the shields when Gerard broadened the link, _showing_ him an image of the smaller, older landing pads out behind the shiny new terminal facilities.

_Stick to the shadows,_ Gerard told him – them? – with a twirly wave of one finger that Frank thought was supposed to show them going around the edges. _We gotta keep out of the way of the monitors; they're gonna notice if we fuck with all of them._

_Right_. Frank nodded, even though he was starting to get a horrible sinking feeling about what they were actually doing here. The trouble they'd get in if they stopped now, though, would be awful, so he took a deep breath and crawled out of their hiding place, letting Lindsey lead him by the arm across the roadway to the pool of shadow cast by the outer terminal wall and just concentrating as hard as he could on projecting the shield.

It seemed to take forever, long minutes of creeping from patch to patch of shadow, all of them holding their breaths every time Mikey whispered that there were guards up ahead or security drones flying above on their patrols. They almost got caught for real, just past the main terminal, when a hangar door creaked open right as Gerard stepped out in front of it, but Mikey _pulled_ him back so hard he hit the permacrete wall with an _oof_ , and they all pressed themselves hard into the wall as bright yellow light spilled out into the darkness. After a second it was followed by a freight float that trundled away toward the gate, the driver hanging out of the window and calling good night behind him.

Even after the big doors clattered closed again, it took Frank a long time to be able to hear anything but the frantic thud of his heartbeat, let alone manage to move his legs. There was an awful giggle stuck in his throat, halfway between excitement and terror, and he had to swallow it back and swallow it back as they snuck past the rest of the loading bays and out onto the blackened permacrete of the landing pads.

_Almost there, Frankie,_ Gerard said in his head, as though he could feel the headache that was starting up behind his eyes, the effort of holding their shields starting to pull at his mental muscles now. Frank gritted his teeth and nodded, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stink of char and ozone that rose up with every shuffling step they took. It stuck in his throat so bad that he thought he was going to choke; the nervous giggle turned into a tickling cough that wouldn't stay down, and he doubled over himself, trying to muffle it with his hands.

"Shit," Gerard whispered, hands patting helplessly at Frank's shoulders, but Lindsey pushed him aside, crouching down next to Frank and pulling something out of her bag that she held over his mouth.

_Here, come on._ The cloth helped; Frank fought with his lungs to stop them seizing up, and after a few breaths the light-headed feeling faded and he could straighten up. Lindsey pushed on his head to turn it, tying the ends of the cloth like a bandanna at the back of Frank's neck. "There," she breathed, and when he turned back he could see her grinning, wide and wobbly as she offered a hand to pull him to his feet. "They'll be here soon," she said, looking out across the flat wasteland of the landing zones, the gantries and walkways outlined like giant skeletons in the stark moonlight.

_Who?_ Frank asked Gerard, turning to look up at him. His face was tipped back, hair falling back as he scanned the sky, and the light of the blue and smaller purple moon turned him into a colorless ghost, sharp-edged with shadows like something he might draw. Frank's stomach clenched with a fear more immediate than getting caught, every time Gerard had talked about wanting to do something _else_ and every time he'd changed the subject away from his Family crashing back into Frank's memory all of a sudden. "Are you running away?" he blurted, too loud even through the bandanna across his mouth, dreading the answer.

_What?_ Gerard flinched away so hard that he almost overbalanced, flailing around to stare down at Frank, eyes wide and stunned in a way that made Frank feel guilty even as some of the fear balled in his stomach started to unwind. It was Lindsey, though, who shook her head, slowly, drawing Frank's attention reluctantly away from Gerard, and said, quietly, "I am."

_Oh._ Frank blinked at her, absorbing that and trying to ignore the way the guilt grew and grew, squashing the nasty twist of relief. Of course Gerard wouldn't have just left, not without telling him; this must have been what he'd meant about it not being his secret, the thing he'd been eating himself up worrying over. "Oh," Frank said out loud, eventually when the silence got too uncomfortable, and he'd opened his mouth to say something else, he didn't even know what, when Mikey interrupted.

"They're coming," was all he said, but Lindsey's eyes went wide, and Frank could feel Gerard's thoughts spiking with panic even though he couldn't see his face.

_Get down!_ Gerard said in his head, grabbing Frank's sleeve and pulling him stumbling into the hollow behind a blast shield. Frank opened his mouth again, because he couldn't feel anything – who were the they Gerard and Lindsey were waiting for? A ship? – but Gerard shook his head frantically, crowding Frank and Mikey together against the cold, dusty metal.

The _crack_ that rang out across the landing bays made Frank's ears ring, and he smacked his shoulder right into the blast shield when he jumped. With a crackling, fizzling noise, every light in the terminal building went out at once. When Frank struggled up onto his toes, craning his neck to see over Gerard's shoulder, he could see a distant glow, sparks spitting up against the sky like fireworks, as shouting and noise started to fill the sudden silence.

_Transformer blew,_ Gerard told him, turning his own head to look. _Seven minutes before they get the security systems back online._

_Whoa_. Frank bounced on his toes a bit, still trying to see. That was totally super cool, and he wondered if it was a weapon, or something Lindsey had done, but before he could get his questions in order Gerard grabbed his arm, excitement bleeding across the link as a humming sound approached, engine noise vibrating through their bones. Frank gasped, twisting to try and see, but the blast shield was so tall that the only clue he had that something was there was a shadow that swept across the sliver of moon that peeked over the edge. It was so quiet he could barely believe it was a ship, the usual roar of engines muffled into a sound barely louder than a shuttlecar passing, and it set down with only a soft thud of the landing gear engaging.

Frank could feel Gerard holding his breath, but when he _felt_ out toward the terminal and the low blocks of the freight hangars, the panic and anger and busyness he could feel, like a boiling bughive, was contained within the walls of the buildings as all the grown-ups desperately tried to fix the power and restart their terminals. No one was paying any attention at all to what was happening out here in the dark; it was awesome.

"Come on." Lindsey poked her head out around the edge of the blast shield, then turned to look back at Gerard before stepping out. Frank, ragged with excitement and exhaustion, could feel the tension in her, the nervousness she was trying to hide, the jagged stab of misery that just seemed to make her more grimly determined. He shook himself out of Gerard's grip, bracing himself on the edge of the shield as he stared up at the sleek dark bulk of the ship. It was tiny, barely bigger than an atmo shuttle, and Frank couldn't fit its smooth, jagged lines into the pattern of any of the freight or transport models he knew. The bow section, past the curve of the engines and thrusters, looked so thin and narrow that he couldn't see how it would fit more than a few people.

An airlock cracked with a soft hiss of air, the cover sliding open over the inner iris as it cycled. There was a dim halo of light outlining someone – a grown-up, Frank thought, craning his neck to see, but their face was hidden by shadows.

"That you, light show?" the person called – it was a man, Frank realized when he stumbled out of the airlock, catching the handle and turning to hiss something at the person behind him.

"It's me." Lindsey checked really obviously over her shoulder before stepping onto the landing pad, a dancing blue light playing over her upraised fingers. They were shaking, Frank saw, but she snuffed out the light so fast that he didn't think anyone else had noticed. He hung back by the edge of the blast shield with Mikey while Lindsey walked forward, Gerard trailing behind her.

"Nice job, kiddo," the man said, and Frank snickered a little, silently, at the way Gerard's mind got briefly indignant. "You changed your mind about getting off this mudball, or what?"

"Or what." Gerard made a weird sort of half-wave half-handflap gesture, like he wanted the guy to shut up but wasn't quite brave enough to say so to his face. That made Frank want to giggle too; he squeezed Mikey's hand, and Mikey squeezed back, snorting under his breath. "You guys should get out of here," Gerard said, looking back over his shoulder at Mikey and Frank, then the distant activity around the terminal buildings.

"Man, why you gotta kill the party," the guy said with a sigh, but the other person stuck her head around the airlock door right then, shoving at his shoulder.

"Three minutes. Get a goddamn move on, asshole." She looked young, not even very much older than Gee, Frank thought, and her round face was worried.

"Fine, shit." The guy rubbed at his shoulder, making a face like it hurt. He had a sort of over-excitedly gleeful expression on his face, like he was enjoying himself a whole lot, even though Frank didn't really understand why. He stuck a hand out to Lindsey, beckoning. "You ready to do this thing, then? No turning back, right?"

"Right." Frank saw Lindsey swallow, her knuckles white where she was clutching the strap of her bag, but she didn't hesitate at all in turning to Gerard, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders and hugging him. If they said anything, Frank didn't catch it, but Gerard hugged her back tight, and his face was scrunched up when he pulled away, shuffling back a few steps. Lindsey swiped at her eyes once, squaring her shoulders, and marched up to the airlock, taking the strange girl's hand to clamber up.

_Thank you_ , Frank heard, carefully projected his way, as she disappeared inside the ship. The guy with the gun flipped a showy salute at Gerard and jumped up after her, slapping at the controls before he was even all the way inside the airlock.

"Gotta run; see you around!" he called as it slid closed, and then Gerard was dragging Mikey and Frank back around behind the blast shield again, shoving them into the hollow between the baffles and pressing in behind them. Frank understood why when the ship's engines flared to life with a rumble that shuddered up through his bones, a wash of heat and exhaust streaming around the edges of the protective barrier. He closed his eyes, feeling out with his senses to follow the ship as it lifted off the pad, reorienting with a blast of jets before zooming off steeply upward. It vanished into the night sky so quickly that Frank actually wondered for a minute whether it wasn't all some weird and awesome dream.

He was pretty sure he was never this cold and tired in dreams, though, and there was a poky metal corner digging into his back. Frank wiggled a bit, then some more, until he could squirm free of Gerard's grip and sit up.

"Did she really run away for real?" His brain felt sort of stretched out and achy, so Frank used his mouth. "Why? Who were those people?"

"Shh," Gerard hissed, but Frank could feel he was sort of slumped down a little bit, like some of the worry and freaking-out had drained out of him, finally. "Yeah, she's gone for good. Pretty sure." He sounded sad. "Just... I guess, there was stuff she wanted to do, and stuff her Family wanted her to do, and they were just too fucking different, you know?"

"Maybe," Frank said sort of doubtfully, but then he thought about his Grandpa's stupid grudge against the Ways, and how he'd have felt if he wasn't allowed to be friends with Gerard and Mikey... He squirmed, not wanting to think about it.

"Gee, were they really pirates?" Mikey asked, out of the blue, right as sirens started blaring out from all the spaceport buildings at once, making all three of them jump. Frank grabbed for Gerard's arm, because there were lights all over the buildings again, and he could see the grown-ups hurrying around, now, distant and tiny like bugs, but Gerard just twisted to pat the back of Frank's hand.

"It's okay, all their terminals just came back on and stuff."

Like that even mattered. "Pirates?" Frank squeaked, staring between the big-eyed shadows that were Gerard and Mikey. "You mean – really? Really for real?"

"Not like you're thinking," Gerard started, but he cut himself off, sitting up to peer toward the terminal as the sirens abruptly cut off. "Fuck, okay, we gotta run for it now, before they get all the security back up. Come on, let's get out of here." He staggered to his feet, hauling on Frank's and Mikey's hoodies until he was practically dragging them both back the way they'd come.

_We'll get caught!_ Frank protested, _pushing_ his stupid too-slow brain to try and wrap them up in a shield, but even though there were less of them now, it was much harder when he had to concentrate on keeping his feet moving. Gerard just shook his head breathlessly, broadening the link so that Frank could see the fragment of a thought about the spaceport workers who were all too busy freaking out about their own stuff to think about anything else. Gerard was more worried about the network getting the security drones started up before they could get past the gates, Frank saw, and he could feel where Gerard was linked in tight to Mikey too, thoughts darting back and forth between them.

They almost, _almost_ made it. The gate was _right there_ and the field was still down, the guard outside but with her back to them, kicking at the generator like that would make it turn on faster, and Frank saw Gerard and Mikey exchange a look, both of them leaning on the wall of the shipping crate they were hiding behind as they panted for breath. He was ready, when they took off running again, circling around the edge of the wide open area toward the gate. He was ready to trip the guard, even, mental muscles flexed and ready in case they needed to create a distraction.

What he wasn't ready for was the other guard who jogged out from behind the corner of the building right as they were barreling toward the gate, freedom in sight. Mikey, in the lead, _shouted_ so loud in surprise that Frank automatically tried to reach out to _pull_ him back, but right as he was about to crash head-first into the guard he just - vanished, blinking right out of existence with a _pop_ like something from a holo. Frank stumbled over his own feet, astonished, and everything seemed to slow down as he saw the guard turning toward them, eyes wide and white as he opened his mouth to yell...

Gerard's panic slammed into Frank like a wave, and he _shoved_ forward before he could think about it, yanking the guard's feet out from under him so he went down with a smack, helmet bouncing off the permacrete. Without stopping to think about what he was doing, Frank reached blindly for the edge of _sleep_ he could feel at the back of the man's mind, and _pulled_ , stretching his senses to do the same to the gate guard. She wobbled on her feet, then slumped over the box of the generator, and it was already starting to flicker and spark as it reset itself. Frank grabbed for Gerard's sleeve, trying to breathe around the freaked-out knot in his throat.

_MikeyMikeyMikey_ , Gerard's mind was going, locked in a loop of horror so strong that Frank actually shied away even as he dragged Gee bodily toward the gate.

"Come _on_ ," he begged, almost sobbing with frustration; they couldn't get caught now, not when they were so close, not after everything. Gerard wasn't listening to him at all, though; his mind was focused far away, searching desperately. Frank shoved and pushed at him until he stumbled down onto his knees, and squirmed them both underneath the gate, the noise they were making almost as loud as his breath in his ears. It wasn't until he'd staggered and dragged them both far enough down the roadway to topple into the ditch, out of sight, that Gerard shook himself out of it, sitting bolt upright.

"Mikey!"

"Shh!" Frank yanked on his arm, dragging him down again; he could hear shouting from the gates, now, but he didn't dare look, just wriggled down into the bottom of the ditch, clinging tight to Gerard's shoulders.

"He's okay," Gerard said, still too loud, but it made Frank's stomach turn upside down with relief anyway. "He's home – fuck, _shit_ , how the hell did he even do that? I gotta – we gotta get out of here, Frankie –"

"The guards," Frank protested weakly, but Gerard just shook his head, pushing Frank aside until he could crawl up to the edge of the ditch, peering around.

"We can cut around, the road turns by the bridge. Motherfucking _teleporting_ , I'm gonna fucking kill him for scaring me like that."

"...Is that what that was?" Frank blinked tiredly. Teleportation was impossible, or at least everyone said so. He was too tired to think about it, though, so he just stumbled after Gerard as they crouched and crawled their way away from the road.

"Uh-huh. Un-fucking-believable," Gerard muttered, but he reached out to let Frank grab hold of his hand as they started down the hill, so Frank just held on tight and let himself be led back home.

* * *

Frank was sick for a week after their spaceport adventure, an evil overextension headache that turned into a fever and cough and left him bored and miserable. Once he was past the first few days and could breathe without wheezing too badly, he spent most of the time talking to Gerard through their link and a stop-and-start message conversation about the graphic Gerard had promised to let Frank help him write. It was going to be awesome, with Gerard the hero pirate for justice, and Frank his ninja ghost sidekick, and The Amazing Teleporting Mikey (who Gerard said had just shrugged when he'd been asked how he'd done it), and Frank was totally grumpy when his mom came and sat on his bed, clearing her throat all meaningfully while he was trying to tell Gee about the ghost powers he should have.

"I gotta go," he told Gerard reluctantly, tilting his com set a little away so his mom couldn't see the screen so well, which made her frown. "I'll tell you later, okay, but you gotta make sure you draw the lightning and stuff."

"I'll show you tomorrow," Gerard promised, grinning into the camera – he was at the Center while he waited for something that hadn't sounded interesting, so it was easier to just call than to try and shout their thoughts past the shielding. Frank smiled back and waved until the screen went blank and switched itself off, then dropped the com into his tangle of blankets, looking up at his mom.

"I can go back to school tomorrow, right?"

"I should think so." Mom leaned closer, laying a hand over his forehead and tilting her head to one side. "No fever still; that's good."

"I'm fine," Frank protested, shaking her hand off. She always worried too much, and made him stay in bed way after he was totally all better. He hadn't even had to go to the hospital at all this time, just stay home doing nothing at all for days and days until he wanted to cry from boredom.

"Hmm." Mom ruffled his hair, tucking the longer pieces at the front behind Frank's ears. It was still kind of uneven from where he'd tried to chop it into a mohawk cycles and cycles ago, only just growing out enough to tickle his neck past the bottom of his ears. "Was that Gerard you were talking to just now?"

"Uh-huh." Frank twisted away from her hand in his hair, almost accidentally kicking the com set onto the floor. "We're writing a graphic, it's gonna be awesome. Mikey too," he remembered to add, because Mikey got kind of grumpy sometimes about being left out of the telepathic stuff, even though Frank was certain Gerard wouldn't ever actually forget about him.

"Is that so?" That was a Mom Voice, and it meant she was pretending to be interested while she thought about something else. Frank couldn't tell what, exactly, but she had the same little frown wrinkling her eyebrows that he'd seen before when she asked what he'd been doing at school, or with his friends. It made him nervous, but he couldn't quite put together why. "You talk to him a lot, don't you? Gerard."

"He's my friend!" Frank protested, crossing his arms over his chest. "We have class together a bunch, he's a nine too. Lower telepathic factors are more suss – suss-subtle?" That didn't sound right.

"Susceptible," Mom corrected, sounding out the syllables carefully. "That sounds like a Doctor Morrison word; did you hear it from her?"

"Uh-huh." Frank squirmed as she patted his knee through the blankets, smiling.

"Do you know what it means?"

"Um, they don't have strong enough shields?" He didn't really get why it mattered, because looking in people's heads without permission was bad bad _bad_ , nearly the baddest thing you could do. But then, Frank had put those guards to sleep, at the spaceport; he didn't know how to feel about that, because he hadn't really done it on purpose, it had just... happened. Maybe he should ask Gee about it?

"Something like that." Mom patted the back of his hand, frowning a little bit. "What I meant, though, was that you and Gerard talk a lot in your heads, don't you."

"...I guess?" Frank pulled his hand away, wrapping his arms around his knees. How much was _a lot_? It wasn't like he didn't mind-talk to other people, Kasha and Patrick and Alex at school, and Doctor Morrison, and even Gerard and Mikey's grandma once, when he'd been bored at a meeting thing Dad had let him tag along to. "I talk to lots of people," he couldn't help pointing out, because Mom had her pretending-not-to-be-worried face on, and Frank didn't like it.

"Of course you do, honey," Mom said, but he could feel that she was still thinking whatever it was, her mind turning over and over behind her shields, and eventually he couldn't stand it any longer and had to burst out, "Can I go watch _Blue Field Crisis_ now?" He'd missed the last episode from being sick, and sooner or later Gerard would forget and start talking about everything that had happened, he was sure.

"Hmm? Oh, go on then. Put your dressing gown on, though, Frankie," she called after him as Frank all but flung himself out of the bed to race out to the holo in the nursery.

* * *

Something was Up. Frank had become more and more convinced of it over the course of the last few cycles. Mom kept shutting herself into her office, which wasn't all that unusual, but this time Dad was in there too, and sometimes Grandpa and Grandma, and one time Frank was sure he caught a glimpse of Ms Way's back as she followed the house-drone across the front hall. That was definitely weird, and all the grown-ups in the House kept having conversations that were too quiet for Frank to hear, that stopped whenever he came into a room.

_I think they know,_ he told Gerard on a Friday night, after Dad and Grandpa had both excused themselves from the dinner table for a remote meeting. Frank stabbed at the broccoli buds on his plate, pushing them into the green sauce and wondering what prison was like. He'd seen an item on the news holo a cycle ago about a new prison for kids, that had some fancy name that was supposed to make it sound like it wasn't really a prison but more like a hospital or something. There'd been a doctor in a white coat talking about treatments and medicine and stuff.

_You're not gonna go to prison, Frankie_ , Gerard said, in that special mental tone he had that meant he was rolling his eyes at the other end of the link. Frank didn't see where he got off acting all high and mighty like he was actually grown up and knew everything; breaking into the spaceport was totally illegal, and so were pirates, and Gee and Mikey had told him that Lindsey's family had been on the news while Frank was stuck in bed sick, because they thought she'd been kidnapped or something. She wasn't on the holos any more, though; it was like everyone had forgotten all about her.

_She sent a message_ , Gerard told him, and Frank perked up a bit, because that probably meant the pirates or whatever they were hadn't been caught.

_How do you know?_ he asked, accidentally taking a bite out of the broccoli and making a face at the gross mushy taste. He felt Gerard give the mental equivalent of a shrug.

_Dad was at an auction with the Sato reps,_ he said, and Frank was about to ask what that had to do with anything when his mom cleared her throat meaningfully, distracting him. He swallowed, resisting the urge to gag, and pulled his mind back to the dinner table with a silent goodbye to Gerard. Mom and Grandma were both looking expectantly at him, like they were waiting for an answer to a question Frank hadn't heard.

"Huh?" He looked between them, uncertain, and Mom's lips thinned where she was pressing them together. Now that Frank wasn't distracted with trying to talk and eat and find an excuse to _not_ eat his vegetables all at the same time, he could feel the heavy atmosphere settled across the room like a choking blanket.

"I said," Mom raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't the usual scolding; her feelings were all tangled up behind her shields, regret and determination and dread and that horrible worry that Frank hated. "You need to clean your room this evening, Frankie. The removal drones will be coming tomorrow, and you'll need to pack a bag for the journey too."

Journey? Frank blinked, and put his fork down slowly. It clinked against the plate; his hands had started shaking. No one had said anything about a trip, and... "Moving drones?" This was It, he could feel it like a weight hanging over them, waiting to crash down. "Where are we going?"

"The Kyraki system." The words fell out of his mom's mouth like stones, and Frank felt his eyes getting wide, saw her exchange a look with his grandma.

"The project is doing very well," Grandma said, smiling like she couldn't feel the gnaw of the hole that was starting to eat Frank's insides. "We've all agreed that it'll be best for Linda and Frank to spend some time out there and keep an eye on things, and of course it wouldn't be fair for them to leave you here, would it?"

"...But I don't want to go." Frank blinked; his eyes were prickling and hot, but he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. "Can't I stay here until you come back?"

"Oh, Frankie." Mom sighed like he was the one being unfair to _her_. "This is at least a three-year contract, so we're making it an official move, honey. Grandma and Grandpa have their own work to do, running the House; they can't look after you. There's a very good psi school in the main city," she added, like Frank was supposed to care about that. "I'm sure you'll make new friends quickly, don't worry."

"I..." Frank's voice wobbled, but he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. He swallowed, and pushed his plate away. "C-can I be excused?" he remembered to ask, and Mom opened her mouth like she was about to say no, but Grandma touched her arm to stop her.

"Go on up to your room if you want, Frankie," she said. Frank could hear her thinking that it was better to let him adjust, whatever that meant, and a wisp of a thought in the background that this was for his own good. Frank flinched away from the mental images that came attached to that, and shoved his chair back so hard that his mom's eye twitched at the screech. Frank mumbled something, he didn't even know what, and ran for his room, already reaching blindly for Gerard.

No matter how he stretched, though, the other end of the connection was just dead and blank, like Frank was shouting into the emptiness of space. _Gee?_ he tried again, stumbling through his door and letting it slam, but he already knew it wouldn't be any use. Gerard had to be in a shielded room somewhere, if Frank couldn't hear him at all, but it was kind of late to be at the Center, wasn't it? The only other places he knew that usually had shielding were ships, and just thinking about them made the hot sting in Frank's eyes turn into welling tears, burning their way to the surface too strong for him to stop. His hands were shaking when he fumbled his com set out and started typing a message, and he kept having to stop to blink his eyes clear.

* * *

Frank waited all night, refusing to sleep despite the stinging behind his eyes and the overextension headache brewing from all the times he'd tried to reach out, but Gerard never replied. Eventually Frank must have fallen asleep, because he woke up stiff and aching, curled into a ball on top of his covers, when his mom came to look for him. She fussed, which just made it worse, because Frank could feel her guilt pressing into him like jagged edges where his barriers were all stretched and worn thin.

He tried to refuse to pack up his things, but his voice went all wobbly in the middle, the traitor, and when Mom sighed and shifted over to hug him, rubbing his back, Frank buried his face in her shoulder and swallowed more humiliating tears. He felt limp and wrung-out, like a burst balloon, by the time the house-drones slid through the door to start folding his clothes into cases, and even though part of him wanted to shove and kick at them until they stopped, wanted to scream and fight and beg until it all stopped, Frank was miserably sure it wouldn't make any difference. He was just a kid; he didn't get a say.

Still, he couldn't help but drag his heels through the spaceport terminal, his com clutched close to his chest, his mind so wide-open that every stray thought from every person they passed was as loud as his dad's voice calling for Frank to hurry up. Every time the crowds of passengers shifted, he kept expecting Gerard to appear, kept craning his neck to try to see past the grown-ups and guards and white Peace Keeper uniforms because he was sure... Every time his heart sped up as he caught a glimpse of messy dark hair, though, it sank again because it was just another stranger. Frank hovered at the security gate in the terminal for so long that Dad had to come back through and put a firm hand on his shoulder, his mind clear and sharp with irritation.

Gerard never showed up, even though Frank called and called for so long, with his mind and on the com as they sat in the waiting lounge, that he was starting to grow a stupid, excited hope that Mikey had worked out how to do the teleporting thing again and they'd appear at the last minute to rescue him the way they had Lindsey. Like Starblaze, saving Hyperboy from the renegade Council in the holos last year; Frank tensed, ready to run if he had to, but all that happened was that the announcer opened up their gate and everyone started shuffling forward to board.

It wasn't until the airlock iris hissed closed, the ship's protective shielding cutting Frank off from the world they were leaving, that the last stubborn thread of hope was finally snuffed out.


	2. everybody knows you don't ever wanna come back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2, posted in two chapters due to length. Whoops.

The shudder of the landing gear hitting the permacrete was barely noticeable under the off-tune vibration of the engine. As soon as the lights on his console turned green, Frank hit the bypass to cycle down the drive, slumping back in the pilot's chair in relief as the teeth-rattling buzz started to fade.

"Fuck," he observed, and James, in the next chair, nodded in agreement before leaning forward to hail traffic control.

"Bell River tower, this is the _Full Effect_ confirming safe arrival. We're, uh, gonna need a tow to the shipyard soon as we've offloaded; engines need a retune yesterday."

"Understood," the controller's voice came back over the connection, her accent so familiar that the back of Frank's neck itched. "We'll queue you. Releasing restrict now; tower over and out."

"Gotcha," James stabbed at a couple keys, flipping off the vacuum seal to the cargo hold and bringing up a screen with the inventory list. "Frankie, you set?"

"Huh?" Frank blinked, looking over to see James nodding pointedly at his flight restraints. "Oh." Time to go, right. "Yeah," he muttered, fighting with straps and buckles that had been designed for someone at least ten cents taller, finally struggling free with a muttered curse. "You need me to give you a hand with the cargo, man?" he asked, fidgeting in place as James flipped through manifests and rep idents.

"Nah, the guys've got it." James snapped his com off and stood up, flipping Frank a salute that he probably meant to be ironic but was at least fifty percent pure dork. "Consider your contract formally expired, dude. Thanks for the help and shit."

Frank snorted, swallowing a stupid giggle. "Dude." He left it at that; it wasn't like this trip had even been part of his actual contract, just a convenient way to get home after his twenty cycles with the Fiorellis were up. Although the word 'home' was definitely kind of debatable; he hadn't been back to Bell River in almost seven years, not since he'd stepped onto that ship, and his last memories of the place weren't exactly great.

"See ya round, Frankie." James held out a hand, and Frank slapped his own over it in farewell, skulking kind of reluctantly out of the cabin to grab his stuff.

Stepping out of the passenger airlock onto the blackened permacrete was strange. The stench of char and ozone and containment gel was the same in every spaceport, but underneath it wafted a hint of salt grass and sun-warmed spicebush leaves; Frank had to grab for the side of the airlock, staggered by the memories that rose up to choke him. Watching the ships lift off from the back of the House; running for the transit stop to meet the Ways; sneaking past the spaceport guards like it was all some big adventure that couldn't possibly hurt anybody. Fuck, he'd been such a freaking _kid_.

There was no one to meet him at the gate, but Frank hadn't expected it; it was the middle of the work day, and the freight zone had been crawling with more people than he thought he'd seen in the whole of Zanzibar Station. He hauled his duffel over his shoulder, telling the transit drone his destination (and scanning his ID when it asked for it, which was new), and a pod whooshed up a few seconds later.

The outline of the city against the horizon as the pod swept toward it was like falling into a memory, or traveling back in time. Frank couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at it, so he watched the scrubland going by at the sides of the roadway instead, digging his nails into his palms as the pod train crossed the bridge, the river glittering at the bottom of the ravine where something – a landslip? – had carved away a swath of the spicebush cover.

The pod detached itself at the junction, taking a left down the street toward the Iero compound, and Frank didn't even pretend not to be staring, all but plastering himself to the viewport as the House approached. The Fernandes had painted their front compound wall a stupid orange-yellow, and there was a new block of low buildings on the other side of the street where the storage place used to be. It was completely different, and just the same. It was fucking weird.

Grandma met him at the door, enfolding him in a powder-scented hug; Frank dropped his bag and clung like he was a little kid again, not even caring that they were right out in public. For just that moment, he really was home, but then he started to notice how much smaller she seemed, thinner and more fragile against his memories. He pulled away restlessly, ducking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets. Mom had made him promise, on the com before he left the Fiorellis, that he'd wear something neat when he came back to the House, because "even if your father won't bother to remember to keep you in good clothes, you're still the Heir." Things had been better, since the divorce, but she still made Frank want to scream every time she started in, and Dad wasn't any better even if he never said it out loud.

"Hi," he managed, fighting not to shrug, and fumbled to grab the strap of his bag.

"Oh, Frankie." Grandma patted his shoulder; sometimes, Frank remembered, he'd wondered whether she was actually secretly a telepath. "It's so good to see you, honey. Now, come on in; we'll get you logged back in to the security, and you can get set up. I hope you don't mind that we kept your old room for you; it seemed silly to move you, when you'll likely just be moving out anyway."

"That's fine, Grandma." Following her up the main steps was kind of a head trip, and Frank clenched his fingers around the strap of his bag, restless. His overwhelming impulse was to turn and run – back to the spaceport, back to the Station, back to his room that actually _felt_ like his, with his games and his audio and his walls plastered with his band posters and pics. He couldn't do that, though, so he just bit his tongue and let his mind drift outward, relearning the familiar and new contours of the House as he signed into the security terminal and let Grandma lead him up the stairs. Everything seemed so much smaller than he remembered, the colors faded from his memory, but there were clean, new sheets on the bed, and after a week crammed into the confined metal space of a ship with five other people and only a tiny sonic cleanser between them, the idea of a room he didn't have to share was just... epically awesome. Frank flopped onto the mattress, inhaling the scent of laundry cleanser, and barely stopped himself from groaning in bliss. Fucking _amazing_ , seriously.

"I'll leave you to get settled, honey," his grandma said, and Frank could feel amusement in her mind, along with a weird sort of – nostalgia, he guessed? He got a brief, sharp mental image of another face, oddly familiar, and it took him a second to realize it was his dad she was remembering, back when he'd been Frank's age. And kind of an asshole, maybe, given the tinge of exasperation that edged the memory, the grin on Frank Senior's face. Frank thought he liked that; he'd spent a long time, especially in the middle of all the fights and divorce bullshit, feeling like a total fuck-up and lashing out because of it. The idea that he reminded Grandma of Dad... that was sort of cool.

By the time he was done showering, using a truly obscene amount of hot water and soap (and jerking off twice, because the novelty of privacy and not having to be completely and totally silent was just too strong), Frank was limp and buzzed out and barely managed to type out messages to Hambone and Jamia before his eyes were falling shut. He should sort his stuff out, he thought vaguely, so he could have clean clothes for whatever new apprentice placement he ended up with, but he was asleep before the thought could even finish forming.

* * *

To Frank's shock, when he came downstairs for dinner, rubbing at the embarrassingly obvious pillow-crease on his face, his mom was standing in the front foyer, just handing her coat off to a house-drone. Frank's feet tried to stop mid-step, because his mind was going _what?_ and _but!_ and _divorce!_ , and he had to grab for the bannister to keep from falling on his face or his ass or both. The noise he made caught her attention, and she looked up, and the way her face changed, softening from a polite, professional mask to wobbly and near-tears... Frank _threw_ himself down the rest of the stairs, risk of faceplanting be damned, and flung his arms around her in an attack-hug.

"Frankie," she breathed, hugging back just as hard, and it was his _mom_ , fuck. It had been a year and a half, nearly, since she'd finally left for good, and no amount of vid-calls and flying visits whenever she passed close enough on business could compare. Frank tried to breathe normally and not actually fucking cry, and clung until she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back, looking him over. "You've grown so much..."

Frank couldn't help but snort at that; he was destined to be a total fucking short-ass for the rest of his life at this point, no matter what bullshit Dad tried to feed him about growth spurts. Mom shook her head, though, wiping under her eyes with her fingers and smiling at him.

"You have; you're almost all grown up – oh, I'm so proud of you." She wrapped him up in a hug again, squeezing the breath out of him, and Frank let her – at least until his lungs started aching and he had to squirm free.

"What are you even doing here?" he demanded – she didn't work for the Family at all any more, not even as a contractor, and he'd thought it was because the whole thing was too awkward, after the divorce. They were supposed to be having lunch tomorrow, but here she was, thinner and with more gray hair at her temples, clearly invited to Family dinner. Weird.

"Your grandfather invited me," Mom reassured him, but Frank could feel she was holding something back; her barriers were softer, more flexible than he remembered, and he wavered on the edge of pushing at them, shying away from trying to read her even as he guiltily wanted to. A tiny thread of apprehension started to coil in his stomach, and he was about to ask, but the sound of a throat clearing distracted him. Grandpa was standing in the dining room doorway, smiling.

"Welcome home, kiddo." He beckoned, and Frank gladly bounded over to be hugged and slapped on the back and his hair messed up. Mom was smiling, too, and if she and Grandpa were cool as they shook hands, well, Frank couldn't care that much.

He didn't even mind being quizzed by everyone at dinner, from Little Tony who wanted to know all about living on-Station and how many kinds of ships he'd been on, to Grandpa quizzing him about his apprenticeship with the Fiorellis. Mom just listened, narrowing her eyes at him every time Frank started to talk with his mouth full or nearly let a curse slip out, but he could feel she was waiting for something, a buzz of anticipation at the back of her mind that made him antsy too, at least until he was distracted by horrifically scarring embarrassment when Grandma asked about his love life, what the fuck. Frank managed to stammer out a humiliating denial, face burning, and she raised an eyebrow, all surprised and disappointed.

"Really? Your father mentioned there was a young lady, a few cycles back..."

Dad was going to _die_. Frank squirmed in his seat, trying to resist the urge to stab himself with a fork, holy shit. "We kinda – she moved away," he muttered to his plate, wrapping his mind up tight in his shields. "It wasn't, like, _serious_ , anyway." They'd been mostly friends; they still were, even if Jamia was on such a stupid schedule now that they had to message back and forth instead of actually talking.

"Well, that kind of thing happens when you're young," Grandpa said in an 'understanding' sort of tone that was possibly even worse than having to talk about this in front of his entire family, fuck. When Frank looked up, shrugging one shoulder, Little Tony was smirking at him across the table, _loser_ obvious through his crappy shields like he wasn't a fucking pimple-faced thirteen-year-old brat. _Fuck you, kid_ , Frank thought back, even though Little Tony was barely factor-one and couldn't hear him at all. 

"Anyway." Grandpa banged a hand down onto the table, making Frank jump. "We have something of an announcement, young man. Thanks to your excellent recommendations from the Fiorellis, and a little conversation I had with Minister Tigris last cycle, the education service has agreed to bump your apprentice scheme up to the fifth tier, effective immediately."

Frank blinked, then again. "You... really?" He could tell Grandpa wasn't joking at all, but also that he was beamingly pleased with himself, and clearly expected Frank to be too, when Frank... had no idea how to feel. Tier Five, that was executive level, right? A whole year earlier than he'd been expecting. "That's... whoa," he managed, groping for some kind of acceptable response. Grandpa must have some really fucking good connections.

"It's a really good opportunity for you to pick up the skills you'll actually need, as soon as possible," his mom said quietly; Frank turned wide eyes on her, hoping his stunned expression looked more like over-the-moon happiness than what-the-fuck confusion. His picture of the next few cycles was morphing from the freedom of piloting and space navigation to the clean, confining panel walls of a cubicle, and he was expected to like it.

"Thank you," he said eventually, when the anticipatory silence stretched out too tight. "That's, uh, really awesome of you, Grandpa." It seemed like the only thing there was to say.

* * *

Walking back up the steps of the Center was a bit like going back in time and finding out your memories were totally wrong. Frank had remembered the place as tall and imposing, the big double doors open and welcoming; now everything seemed smaller, and he had to wait at the security point for ever while it scanned his ID and palm print. By the time he was finally let in, the clock on the Capitol across the plaza was vibrating its way through the eight-hundred chime.

The school wing hadn't changed much. Frank almost fell over his feet right away, because he was so busy staring around, taking in everything, and then he did trip for real, arms flailing out to catch himself, because someone collided with him from the back. "Shit!"

"Whoa!" someone said, and grabbed his hoodie sleeve, hauling him upright. It was a girl in a hat, dark skinned and almost as short as Frank. "Mikey, dude, gotta watch where you're walking."

"Huh?" Frank whirled, stomach dropping through the floor, to see the guy who'd walked into him – tall, skinny and pale, squinting accusingly at Frank over the top of a com screen like he was the one who hadn't been looking where he was going. His hair was different, longer and stupider and streaked with bleach, and his eyes looked weirdly different without glasses, but Frank still couldn't breathe, suddenly. Mikey fucking Way, fuck his goddamn _life_.

"...Hey." Mikey flipped his com screen off, standing a little straighter. He looked – Frank didn't even know, he was too busy freaking out. Fucking neutral and wary and unimpressed and maybe, if he wasn't completely imagining it, kind of surprised. "Long time no see, Frank."

"Uh-huh." Frank cleared his throat, couldn't look at Mikey any more, so he nodded at the girl instead. He was pretty sure he recognized her, at least a little bit, but fuck if he could remember her name. "Hi," he offered, and she cocked her head, grinning.

"It's Luce. We were in History group together, remember?"

"Kind of?" Frank shrugged; he was pretty sure she was a telepath, at least, so he made an effort to tighten his shields, screwing them grimly down over the roil of jittery nerves and old, bitter anger. "Guess it's been kind of a while, you know?"

"You're back for good, though," Mikey said, forcing Frank to look at him again. He had no idea if that had been a question, but he made himself shrug again. Whatever, he could be cool about this; it wasn't like he hadn't known it would probably happen.

"Yeah, apprenticeships, Family, you know how it is."

"Uh-huh." Mikey's eyebrows drew down fractionally, but he just jerked his head in the direction of one of the doorways before slouching off toward it. Frank kind of looked at Luce, not sure what that meant, but she didn't seem fazed at all, grabbing his sleeve again and pulling him along.

"Did you get an assignment yet, or...? I get my next one today, so do Patrick and the others, but Mikey got an extension on the place he's already at."

"Uh, no." Frank blinked, unobtrusively trying to tug his sleeve free. "I mean, I gotta get mine today too. I wish I could have got an extension, though."

"Yeah? You've been off-planet, right? What were you doing?" Mikey had already slumped down at one of the terminals in the back of the room, and there were a couple other kids poking at screens too, but Luce didn't seem to care, perching herself on the edge of a desk and swinging her legs. Her skirt rode up her legs, showing skin over the tops of her high socks, and Frank caught himself staring and had to turn away to hide the stupid heat in his face, making himself busy with setting his stuff down and adjusting the chair.

"Piloting." Thank fuck his voice didn't squeak, at least. "And some demolition stuff, too, on the side, but – yeah, It was pretty awesome."

"Oh, cool." Luce nodded, shoving the brim of her hat up where it had slipped down. "I haven't even got my license – took the classes, but, you know. Family."

"Uh-huh." Frank knew. His mom had bored him rigid at lunch yesterday about what courses he should put in for this year, and which options to select to get the most useful and prestigious assignment. She'd been very clear that he needed to 'settle', whatever the fuck that meant, and get some experience in the running of a Family rather than just 'playing around with flying ships.' He maybe hadn't exactly told her about the extra assignments he'd taken from the Fiorellis.

"Hey, Pat," Luce said, and Frank looked up to see another vaguely familiar guy in an almost identical hat glance totally curiously in his direction. "You remember Frank?"

The guy – Patrick? – cocked his head at Frank. "Iero?"

"Yeah." Frank drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, off balance and not liking it at all. He felt like he _ought_ to know everyone here, but he remembered them as kids and it was just.. weird. He was pretty sure he wasn't the person they remembered any more, so it was almost as if he was meeting them all for the first time over again, but with stupid memories tripping him up every time he tried to act cool. It kind of made him want to punch things, or kick at the leg of the desk until it broke.

"Bet it's strange to be back, huh?" Patrick said, though, and Frank remembered the guy was an empath and also that he was supposed to be fucking shielding, damn it, and Luce grinned in just the same shit-eating way Matt had back home, and that made it a bit easier. Frank let himself slide down some in the chair, bouncing one heel, as a man he actually didn't recognize came to the front of the room and clapped his hands sharply, waiting until everyone's attention was on him.

"Good morning, all." He had a slight drone to his voice that Frank could already tell was going to bug the hell out of him. "As you see we have a new student with us, who some of you may remember from elementary classes." Frank slid a little further down in his chair, waiting for the dreaded request to stand up and introduce himself, but the teacher just nodded shortly to him, turning to flip on a holo projector. "The first order of business this morning is for those of you who've not yet done so to select your preferences for your next quarter's work assignments. You'll find the questionnaires queued on your terminals, and placements will be awarded impartially later today. Notifications will be sent out by eighteen-thirty tonight." He sounded like he'd said the same thing so many times it was rote, and Frank glanced around covertly as the others all yawned and shuffled their feet and started flipping up their terminal screens.

Shrugging to himself, he opened his own screen, logging quickly into his classroom modules and bringing up the work queue. He could totally ace this.

* * *

By the time the clock ticked over to eighteen-thirty, Frank had been alternately staring at his empty inbox and flinging himself up to pace his room for what felt like hours. He'd had the audio turned up high, Mad Gear blaring out of the speakers to distract him, but Grandma had asked him to turn it down 'just a little, honey' after he'd almost got into a fight with Little Tony. He was maybe freaking out just a bit.

He almost missed the chime of the message notification under the music, but the flash of the capsule popping onto the screen caught Frank's attention, and he dived onto the bed, snatching up his com set and staring at the screen. _1 new message_ , it said, and, _Tier 5 Apprentice Scheme: Notification of Assignment_. Fuck. Frank squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clenching around the smooth shell of the com, and took a deep breath before tapping at the screen to select and open the capsule.

_We are pleased to inform you..._ Frank skipped over the waffle, flicking down to the details. _Management Assistant_ , that sounded super fucking boring but Mom and Grandpa would probably like it, and the sector mapping meant the company was...

Frank's brain screeched to a halt so sharp it was like everything just _stopped_ for an endlessly elastic moment. He had to force his eyes to focus on the screen; he must have misread it, but there it was in black and white, _House of Way_. He only realized he wasn't breathing when his lungs started to burn; the air he sucked in burned in his throat.

On the audio, Mad Gear wailed one final line and the song cut out into silence. Frank read the message again, searching for anything that might mean it was some asshole's idea of a joke, but all it said was that the Heir to the Way Family required assistance with the duties of the business, and he had been selected because of his background and desired specializations. Frank took another breath, felt it wobble, started to count to ten.

He'd made it to seven when the com set hit the wall with a crash of shattering plas-glass, dying with a sharp pop. Frank clenched his fists, staring at it, the harsh sound of his breath loud in his ears. Somewhere behind the burn of anger and disbelief was the sinking feeling that he was going to get in so much shit for that, but he still couldn't stop himself from whirling, lashing out at the wall with a punch that shuddered up his arm.

The skin on his knuckles split the second time they hit the wall, smudging a rusty smear across the smooth panel. Frank snatched his hand back with a curse, jamming it into his mouth to suck off the blood. It felt like he'd maybe broken it, the hot throb of protesting bone and muscle a pounding bassline that rendered the treble sting of grazes all but unnoticeable. Shit, that was _all_ he needed, but the knowledge that he was a fucking idiot wasn't anywhere near enough to wind Frank down, not with the tense knot that still simmered in his belly, sparks shooting out like jolts down his limbs until he had to _move_ or he'd break something worse than his hand or his com.

Fuck, the _Ways_. Someone at the Center had to have it out for him – or, no, all the assignments were made by drones, right, to avoid bias or what the fuck ever, so this was just Frank's shitty luck. He should never have come back; he'd known it was a crappy idea, but Dad had insisted, for once, and Grandpa had been so pleased. Damn, Grandpa would _get_ it; maybe he could do something? But no, Frank realized, whipping around as he reached one end of his circuit of the room, the only thing worse than having to work for the Ways in the first place would be having to get Grandpa to pull more strings to get him out of it, like he was some complete chickenshit. To hell with that.

"Fucking suck it up," Frank muttered, except it came out kind of garbled around his knuckles. He could fucking deal with it, was all; Donna Way wasn't the worst person to be working for, even if her son was a self-interested traitor asshole. Hell, maybe Frank's luck would change, and he wouldn't even run into Gerard – he could be off planet, or on an assignment of his own, or maybe he'd fucking run off with the pirates too and saved everyone from having to look at his stupid face. That could totally happen. Right.

* * *

After enduring Grandma's clucking over his busted-up hand, and then the suffocating pressure of her disappointment while she told him off for smashing the com, Frank couldn't even work up the energy to be pissed any more while recounting the story to what felt like every single member of his freaking family, who all wanted to get up in his face about it. To his surprise, while he caught the edge of a thought from Uncle Tony that he'd have smashed the place up too, Grandpa actually seemed _pleased_ by the whole thing.

"It's a good opportunity, kiddo," he told Frank, ruffling his hair like he was ten again. "They're in our line of business, and there's no substitute for experience."

"Yeah, but –" Frank shifted on the table, wincing as Aunt Rosa scrubbed an antiseptic swab not at all gently across his knuckles. "Don't you, uh, not like them?"

"Things change, Frankie." Grandpa leaned one hip against the table, crossing his arms. "Even I can forgive and forget, no matter what your grandmother may think –" Grandma snorted softly from the other side of the room, and Frank heard Grandpa think, sadly, _It's just not the same with Elena gone_ , and had to gape, because what? How had he he not known that she was dead? That was a hell of a hard thing to miss; the Ways weren't the most prominent Family around, but they had a decent amount of influence. But... Frank had made it very fucking clear, hadn't he, that the Way Family were not to be mentioned in his hearing. Even his friends, who'd never heard of Gerard or Mikey Way beyond the occasional slow news day holo or article, had learned that one.

It didn't occur to him until later, when he was lying in his bed thinking blurry, disconnected, post-jerking-off thoughts, that Gerard and Mikey's Grandma dying meant their mom – or maybe their dad? – was the Head of the Way Family now. Which made Gerard himself the Heir. Who Frank was supposed to be working for. Clearly his life was a total motherfucking loss at this point, shit; he might as well just give the fuck up and run off with the pirates the way Lindsey had. Except... well, he had no idea how to even start to contact them, for one thing, and for another, there was his Family.

Flinging himself over onto his stomach, Frank pushed his face into the pillow, half-yelling half-groaning into its choking softness. He was going to have to do it, he didn't have any choice, but he was damn well going to be the bigger man about it. Fucking figuratively, at least. If Gerard Fucking Way needed the _help_ with his duties as Heir – well, Frank thought viciously, even if he couldn't punch the asshole, he could damn well prove himself _better_ than Gerard. That would be the best revenge of all.

* * *

"Well." Ms Way – Donna, she'd insisted, like Frank was ten again and she wasn't the Head or Co-Head or whatever now – fluttered her hands above her lap before wrapping them around the black shell of her com. "I don't mind telling you, Frankie, this was a bit of a surprise. Linda hadn't even mentioned – well. I dare say it was unexpected for you too, huh?"

"Yes ma'am." That had to be the understatement of the cycle, but Frank was finding it hard to concentrate through the aura of guilt that hung like smoke over the room. He didn't understand it, and didn't dare to so much as touch her surface mind; she'd lived with a high-factor telepath for long enough to develop her own senses (self defense, Gerard had said, and why was Frank thinking about him? Ugh). "I, uh, I hadn't heard about your mom, until I got the..." His shoulder twitched in half a shrug, and he immediately wanted to punch himself. In the _face_. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Frankie." She sighed, dabbing at her eyes in what he thought – hoped – was a habitual motion rather than any threat of tears. "It wasn't entirely unexpected, you know; she'd been sick for a while, but I don't think any of us were prepared, really. Gerard least of all; he never wanted to believe it, I don't think. And of course Mama encouraged his outside interests – well, that's in the past, now. What we need from you, really, is a good pair of eyes and some solid sense, to help Gee organize his schedule and workload. I had Lauren draw up a job description, but there's a lot that you and Gerard are going to have to work out between yourselves too. Do you think that's something you can cope with?"

"I..." Frank clenched his fists on his knees, digging his fingers into his palms. He'd just have to cope with it – but he got the definite impression that she wasn't worried about whether he'd kill her asshole son so much as whether he'd manage the workload. Which, in Frank's opinion, was infinitely less problematic. "Sure," he ended up saying, kind of weakly, but it seemed to make her relax some anyway.

"Great, honey. It's been a bit of an issue, you know, going from having the two of us sharing the role to just poor Gee. And of course Mikey's got his own training to worry about... you must have bumped into him at the Center?"

"Uh-huh." Literally. Frank swallowed back an inappropriate giggle, flattening his palms against the stupid scratchy material of the neat pants his mom had piled into his arms the night before when he was packing up his stuff. How the hell she'd known what size to order, when she hadn't even seen him for cycles and cycles, was clearly some kind of arcane Mom wizardry.

"Well," Ms Way said again, clapping her hands sharply enough to make Frank jump. "You've been assigned a room, of course – the guest wing, you remember? Just ask any of the house-drones to show you up once Mehdi gets you keyed in."

"Right." Frank nodded, trying to look adult and professional and probably failing at both if her half-fond half-worried smile meant anything. That damn guilt was still hovering between them, sick and alive to the point that he was half convinced he was walking into some kind of trick. She wouldn't, though... or at least he was pretty sure.

"He'll take you down to Gerard's office, too – not that you don't have your own, but he should be in right now so you may as well get started. I need him to get the Epipolis contracts back to Don by the end of this cycle; I expect he could use some help."

"Got it." That was definitely an instruction; Frank squared his shoulders, getting to his feet when Ms Way nodded. A wave of her finger over the terminal on her coffee table summoned the same unimpressed security guy who'd escorted him up here, and Frank was whisked away to have his palm and voice prints entered into the House security net. As predicted, Grandpa had been pissed about the broken com, but despite the lecture on minding his temper, which Frank thought was kind of rich coming from him, he hadn't been able to argue with the necessity of it, so a new one had arrived from the network service just that morning, and before Frank knew it he had an ident and a node on the Way system.

Frank was briefly surprised when the security guy – Mehdi, right – led him toward Mr Way's office on the second level, before he realized that he was a fucking idiot because of course this was Gerard's office now. It was a relief when Mehdi glanced at the door panel on the inner room and announced that 'the younger Mr Way' (weird) wasn't yet in the office, even though it was like nine thirty already. "You're over here," he told Frank tersely, waving a hand at the side office that opened off the front room of the suite. On the plus side, Frank thought, it wasn't actually a cubicle, but he still had no door to shut, and the desk faced out into the main room in a way that most definitely said 'glorified receptionist'. It was an altogether fancier setup than his Dad's, even back at the main House, but then the Ways had been around longer, no matter what Frank's Grandpa muttered under his breath.

"Right," Frank said, more to himself than Mehdi, and in the absence of anything else to do, went to flip on the terminal and dock his still-shiny new com.

He had a news feed up and was scrolling past an overexcited article about the Lewicki Heir marrying some guy whose face in the blankly-smiling pic looked vaguely familiar, when the main office door swished open with a beep. Frank's stomach turned over once, violently, then dropped through his shoes when he looked up. His shields were locked down as tight as he could make them, but he still flinched involuntarily when their eyes met.

Gerard looked different – older, thinner, sharp-boned, eyes smudged with bruises and warily narrowed – but the recognition was a deeper thing, the presence of another strong telepath clear even through multiple layers of shields. Frank took a slow breath, fighting both the instinct to snap and scream at the fucker, and the stunned little part of him that noticed and cataloged every change and came up with, of all fucking things, _holy shit he got pretty_. It was mostly self-defense that had him raising an eyebrow when Gerard just kept fucking staring.

"Hi." It came out flat and unfriendly; Frank didn't honestly give a shit. "I'm supposed to help you go through the Epipolis contracts."

"...Uh." Gerard cleared his throat, eyes on the floor now but not moving away from the door. "Right. I'll... do you have an ident?"

"Yep." _Duh_ , Frank didn't say; damned if he was going to help the asshole out, though.

"Right, yeah." Gerard frowned at the floor, absently patting at first his pants and then his jacket pockets, and how fucking unfair was it that he wasn't wearing office clothes at all, but stretched-out black jeans and a jacket? So fucking unfair. When Frank was the Head he was going to ban shirts with stupid uncomfortable collars.

He jumped a little when Gerard dragged out a battered-looking com, frowning at the screen while he scrolled through it with twitchy finger flicks. He hadn't lost the habit of poking his fingertips right through the holo screen, Frank realized with a weird flash of recognition that had him momentarily floundering, ten years old again.

"Here," Gerard said, snapping Frank out of it as a new message bounced into his inbox with a discreet beep that was quickly followed by a succession of others. "Kaki put a whole bunch of notes into the leases, check what she suggested and do it if it seems like a good idea. Better keep a log of what you changed, though," he added, like a total afterthought, before vanishing through the door to the inner office. The soft click of the lock engaging as it shut behind him sounded loud and final in the silent room.

"...the fuck." Frank gaped at the firmly closed door for a long few seconds until it became glaringly obvious that Gerard really wasn't coming back out. Fucker hadn't even said hello, Frank thought blankly. What the hell?

* * *

By the time fifteen-thirty rolled around, Frank had spent so much time reading and re-reading and comparing five different versions of nearly the same document that his eyes were crossing. He kept zoning out on the convoluted legal wording, mind circling back to the closed door of Gerard's office, which hadn't so much as cracked open the whole day Frank had been here. Well, unless the asshole had snuck out while Frank was in the bathroom, or when he'd wandered down to the front office to ask what he was supposed to do about lunch. (Alsy at the reception desk, who Frank liked purely for the fact that she was new and didn't exclaim over how much he'd grown since he'd bummed around here as a kid, had sworn up and down that the awesome sandwich selection on the service menu she showed him was entirely made by the kitchen drones. Frank refused to actually believe a word of this until he saw it for himself, but the chickpea-sourfruit flatbread thing he'd picked _had_ been really good.)

So far, Frank had to admit, he wasn't at all impressed. Even though the notes the lawyer had made on the contracts mostly made sense, the work of sifting through them and putting together all the changes, which were subtly different in every version, was dull as shit. He was beginning to suspect that was why Gerard had given it to him to start with, actually, which just made him more determined to plow through it. Hell if he'd let Gerard send him running back to the Iero house like a kid. He frowned at the terminal, flicking a finger down the middle to split it into two screens so he could compare two different paragraphs about the effects of early completion on lease abandonment penalties. They looked like they meant the same thing, despite the different names and product references, but it was all in lawyerese and hard to tell for sure.

"Hey," a voice said from the main room, which had been still and empty just moments ago; Frank jumped right out of his skin, slamming his barriers up and his chair back and almost toppling right the fuck over. Mikey blinked in what could as easily be amusement as surprise, hands wedged awkwardly into his pockets as he leaned against the back of the couch. The toes of his ridiculously enormous shoes pointed together; it would have been kind of adorably stupid if Frank hadn't been busy trying not to hyperventilate and die.

"The fuck," he croaked eventually, knuckles white on the edge of the desk as he hauled himself back toward it. "Did you just _teleport_ in here, dude?"

"Teleportation is impossible," Mikey said blandly, shrugging one shoulder a millimeter or two when Frank coughed pointedly. "You just weren't paying attention."

"Right," Frank said – he was kind of doubtful, but for all he knew Mikey was telling the absolute truth. It didn't feel like he was bullshitting, anyway, and he had been kind of concentrating, or trying to... "Hey, aren't you supposed to be, you know, working too?"

Mikey's shrug was eloquently minimal and disinterested. "Shift ended." He jerked his head fractionally in the direction of the closed door. "He in?"

"Hah." Frank breathed out sharply through his nose and flicked his screen back up. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of him since he got here," he told it, not looking up. "Dude could've been eaten by aliens for all I know." _Or care_ , he added silently, in the privacy of his own mind and buried deep beneath his shields.

"Huh." Mikey didn't say anything for a while, so Frank made a point of selecting a paragraph and typing in the phrase Kaki-the-Lawyer had said to add. "There much danger of being eaten by aliens out on the Stations?" Mikey asked eventually, shifting a bit like he was getting comfortable. For some reason that made Frank's irritation wind up another notch.

"Happens all the fuckin' time," he muttered, rolling his eyes, and Mikey snorted a bit, and – okay.

"Tell Ray that," Mikey advised, "he's got a total thing about 'em; his last girlfriend used to swear up and down that it was aliens took the _Remora_."

"What, that cruiser that drifted out of the Lanes and blew up?" Frank tilted his head, squinting as he tried to remember the newscasts; it had been big news while he'd been studying for his piloting certificates, kind of freaked him out at the time. "Wasn't that, like, an engine fault, though? Like, proved and shit?"

"Yeah." Mikey's face went – Frank didn't even know; it was like his expression hardly changed, but all of a sudden he was closed off, blank and distant. "He's planetside Thursday, though; there's a show down at the Coriolis, a bunch of us are going." He tilted his head, still unreadable but Frank's shoulderblades itched like he was being assessed. "You should come."

"I dunno." Frank groped for an easy way to decline, but only came up with, "Who's playing?"

"Megabeast." Mikey shrugged as Frank squinted at him. "And, you know, Mad Gear."

"...Shit." Frank bit his lip, but he could see from the tiny twitch of a smirk that twisted Mikey's mouth that he'd been made. "Really?" Fuck, he wanted to go – he wanted a whole _lot_ , but...

"Uh-huh." Mikey pushed off the back of the couch, ambling toward the still-closed door. "Just come, dude; Gee won't be there."

"...Dude." Frank felt his face heat painfully and obviously. "Did you turn into a fucking telepath after all?" Mikey actually did laugh at that, a dry snort of a giggle that hit Frank in the gut with how like the old days it was.

"You're not exactly subtle, Frankie," Mikey said wryly, lifting one hand in a limp farewell before he pressed it to the door panel. Frank was slightly disgruntled with how immediately the door hissed open – but then, he hadn't actually tried to go in, had he? He'd been too intent on ignoring Gerard right back, to show him just how many shits Frank didn't give about his opinion.

"Fuck," he muttered, flopping back against the tall chair back and linking his hands together, stretching them out above his head. Fuck Gerard, anyway; Frank was going to be the best damn assistant ever, if only to spite him.

* * *

Gerard didn't show at all the next day. Frank yawned his way through the morning (he never slept all that great in a strange place, even if the room he'd been given in the Ways' guest wing was totally fancy enough to be an actual hotel), dealt with a couple of messages about scheduling that Ms Way and the front office had sent, and poked at Gerard's calendar without managing to find an explanation for his absence. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that a batch of documents popped into his work queue, with a bland message attached that just said _Please proof, countersign, and submit to the Council legal advisory._ Frank blinked at it, but the words failed to rearrange themselves into anything that might have been written by – or, for that matter, addressed to – a human being rather than a fucking drone.

"Fucking..." Ugh. _Fine_ , Frank thought, flipping open the documents with gestures so sharp the terminal beeped in protest. They weren't all that long, just notifications of intent that the House of Way would be entering into a contract with the Epipolis Collective for the interstellar transportation and distribution of supplies to the Stations and mining colonies. Frank shrugged, and told the terminal to check spelling for the sake of it while he skimmed through the formal paragraphs and declarations.

After he'd hunted down a stylus to put his signature into the witness box, Frank sat back in his chair, staring at the scratchy loops of Gerard's name etched over his. Two days here, and he'd seen the guy for all of two minutes, once. While Frank might have thought that would be ideal, since he hadn't wanted anything to do with Gerard in the first place, and it definitely provided for less opportunities to flip out and punch the asshole... the whole thing was just fucking weird. What the fuck was up with the guy that he wouldn't even be in the same room as Frank?

"Right." Get the fuck on with it, Frank thought smacking himself – not actually hard or anything, though – in the side of the face. Opening up a network screen, he keyed in the address for the Council's business node, searching past all the useless information they liked to make sure everyone knew, like it wasn't obvious that injuries and accidents had to be reported to the Safety Commission or anything. They'd added a bunch of stuff, though, since Frank had last looked at it for his Business Skills assignment; there was a whole new section about forms to request employee background checks, and a link to an article about permits for non-scheduled Lane travel, which... Frank frowned, flicking over to it. There was a lot of talk about security and preventing accidents and working together to make everyone safer, which was sort of weird since Frank had seen Old Man Sato making a speech on the holo just a couple of cycles back about boosting trade and business by keeping the Lanes free for everyone. There had been that accident Mikey had reminded him of, though, and a couple of other lost ships Frank had heard mutters about recently... he shrugged to himself, backing out and opening the capsule for data transfer.

Once it had pinged to let him know the documents had been accepted, Frank re-opened Gerard's message, pondering whether it would be a good idea to send some kind of snarky message back, maybe 'acknowledged and completed' or something, if Gerard was going to treat him like a drone. His inbox flashed at him, though, displaying an automatic message from the Council network letting him and Gerard know the notifications had been accepted and queued for review. That was new, too; Frank had had a class module just a few cycles ago where the teacher had explained that copies of contract stuff needed to be filed as a precaution, but the Council never actually got involved with businesses unless arbitration was needed. Huh, Frank thought, chewing on the inside of his lip. Maybe they'd changed the rules? Or maybe – no, the Epipolis collective had different rules, didn't it? Something to do with unions and government money, Frank thought; that was probably why. He shrugged, turning back to the contracts, but got distracted again almost immediately when his com made a bizarre noise that turned out to be an incoming call that had been diverted from Gerard's public ID node.

Frank was going to punch him, he decided. Punch him hard, and maybe kick him in the fucking nuts for good measure. He took a deep breath and stretched his face into what he hoped was a polite smile, remembering the way his dad's sometimes-secretary Lila had always answered the com.

"House of Way, the Heir's office; can I help you?"

"...Ah." The bald man staring at him from the screen was familiar from dozens – fucking hundreds – of news holos and pics. "Gerard did mention he'd been given an assistant. Is he available?"

Frank swallowed, then immediately wanted to smack himself, because the Morrison Heir's eyes followed the movement coolly, his mouth twisted up at one corner in a way that didn't seem at all amused. "I'm afraid he's out of the office right now. Sir," he added hastily, and Morrison's lips stretched into what could have been a smile or a grimace.

"Fine; I'll try and catch him on his personal node."

"Shall I let him know you called?" Frank hazarded, privately thinking that he'd have to actually see Gerard first, but Grant Morrison just waved him away.

"No need; I can message him myself." And with that he disconnected, leaving Frank staring at the empty screen and wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

Though Gerard did show up on the Wednesday, dumping a handful of file sticks on Frank's desk with a muttered request to transfer everything to the business network and immediately disappearing behind his office door again, on Thursday he was nowhere to be found. Literally nowhere to be found; Frank knew, because he'd spent the past hour and a half searching for the bastard, going from office to office watching everyone from secretaries to Lauren the site manager shake their head when asked if they'd seen the Heir. He'd even got desperate enough to venture into the main house, pestering the drones and the security net for Gerard's whereabouts, with nothing but apologies and "Master Way is not at home" to show for it.

Now he was slumped behind his desk again, staring at the contracts in the hope that the annotation about reference math (or possibly 'matrix' – the lawyer's handwriting was even shittier than Frank's) might suddenly become comprehensible, or at least in some way relevant to the section it was scrawled alongside. Every other change that had been requested, he'd managed to update, even if he'd had to check in with the front office people a couple of times about the lawyerese, but this was the last fucking thing, and Frank had finally fought down his pride to ask Gerard about it, so of course the motherfucker had chosen right now to vanish off the face of the planet.

Frank sat, and glared at his com, and didn't kick things even though he really wanted to. He knew he should just call Gerard – it wasn't like he hadn't had the guy's ID in his contact list for going on seven years, after all – but he stubbornly couldn't bring himself to. If Gerard wanted to fuck off and ignore his job, fine, but he could deal with the fucking consequences of that himself, because Frank wasn't going to fix it for him.

He was in the middle of composing a grumpy message to Hambone, complaining about the whole thing (and also promising to pick him up a shirt from the show later, because dude was a fan and Frank wasn't that much of a tool, okay), when the sound of ever-so-slightly off-rhythm footsteps intruded into his little bubble of pissiness. Frank snapped his head up just as Gerard appeared in the doorway, catching at the frame with one hand as he visibly swayed for a second. He squinted around the front office, then clumsily shoved his hair out of his face, blinking rapidly, and startled violently when Frank cleared his throat, as though he hadn't expected him to be there even though it was fourteen thirty in the afternoon.

"Where the hell have you been?" Frank demanded, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone without all that much success. "I've been looking for you all day."

"Huh?" Gerard squinted at him, narrowing one eye and then the other like the light was simultaneously too bright and too dim. "Oh. Meeting. With Grant. Did you... what did you want?"

Some fucking meeting, Frank thought as privately as he could; Gerard might not be slurring, but he was clearly completely out of it, clutching the doorframe like he needed it to hold him up. Frank could feel the swirling slosh of his thoughts, Gerard's shields wobbly and thin enough that Frank could easily tell that there really had been a meeting, but also that it wasn't the whole truth. He clenched his jaw, fortifying his own shields to the point that he was all but locked into his head, unable to feel the muddle of thoughts and emotions spilling off Gerard. "I'm done with the contracts," he gritted out, stabbing at his terminal, "but there's one bit in the Station Three lease that doesn't make any sense."

"...Oh." Gerard frowned, like that required a lot of thought, then shrugged, apparently giving up. "I'll look, send it or whatever." And with that, he pushed off the doorframe, face pinched in clear concentration as he turned – slowly, but steadily enough – and walked back out of the door. Frank watched him disappear in a state of complete and utter disbelief, and only managed to shut his gaping mouth when Lauren appeared to ask if he'd found Gerard because she needed him to finish some stuff for her.

"Uh." Frank blanked for a second, then shook himself out of it. "Yeah, he stopped by just now, but I think he's –" _completely fucking wasted_ – "sick, he didn't look all that well, you know?"

"Damn." Lauren frowned, checking her com. "I guess it'll have to wait – unless, Frank, you don't happen to know what happened to the declarations of intent, do you?"

"For the Epipolis agreements?" Frank flicked his terminal screen up, opening his inbox. "Uh, yeah, I submitted them the other day. What do you need?"

"Really? Awesome. Can you forward me the acceptance mail? I need some schedules updated; I'll send them over to you, if that's okay?"

"Sure," Frank said helplessly, because what else _could_ he say? He thought Lauren might have caught a bit of that; she gave him kind of an apologetic sort of grimace-smile as she turned to go back to her own office. Or maybe she wasn't any factor of telepath at all and he was just obvious? Frank poked at his face, kind of curious, but it didn't feel like he was making any kind of weird expression or anything, at least until his com pinged and he saw the length of the message Lauren had sent with instructions. Fuck Gerard, Frank thought grimly as he started opening documents, checking dates and names. Fuck Gerard so fucking hard.

* * *

Mikey, it turned out, was a really awesome person to go out with. Frank had been kind of dubious about getting into the show, even though he was technically over the age limit, but the burly guy on the door just nodded seriously at Mikey and waved them through to the drone scanning ticket codes. Mikey immediately made a beeline for the merch counter, high-fiving some random dude on the way and actually hugging the chick working the desk. Frank trailed after, hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets, blinking at the display.

"Do you know, like, everyone or something?" he couldn't resist asking when the girl – she was kind of cute, curvy with big smiling eyes, and her tattoos were awesome – let Mikey go. Mikey just sort of shrugged, leaning one skinny hip against the counter edge.

"Frank, Jem." This was plainly all the introduction he felt was necessary; Frank saw Jem roll her eyes fondly.

"You're a new face," she commented, and Frank shrugged.

"Guess so, yeah; I used to live here when I was a kid, but, you know. Hey," he remembered to ask, "can you save me a couple of shirts? Told a guy I'd pick one up."

"Sure, no prob." Jem gave him a once-over so blatantly thoughtful that Frank felt his face catch fire. "Medium, and...?"

"Uh, large I guess?" Frank managed, carefully concentrating on how great the crisp lines of her mechanical-style shoulder piece were, and not on how he wouldn't actually mind tasting them. Just under a cycle, now, and he'd finally be able to get his own ink; he had so many plans he hardly knew what to go for first.

"Cool, I'll put 'em aside for you." Jem grinned and nodded, already turning away to help a cluster of girls who looked like they could take your eye out if you put a foot wrong, all spiked neon hair and studded piercings. Fuck, Frank wanted piercings too. He relayed this thought to Mikey, who snorted, pushing off.

"There's Toro. Coming?" He jerked his head in the direction of the bar, and wow, Frank thought, Ray's hair was even more enormous and head-eating than he remembered.

"Fuck yeah." Frank trailed after Mikey, who seemed to have no trouble at all making a path through the gathering crowd. Either he was just naturally gifted – which Frank wasn't going to discount – or he was using telekinesis to _nudge_ people aside, and fuck, why hadn't Frank thought of that?

Ray had clearly been expecting Mikey; they exchanged a bizarre half-high-five half-handshake type thing, and Frank noted with some jealousy that there was already an open beer on the bar waiting for Mikey. Everyone he knew was taller and older than him; it was fucking annoying.

"Wait, Frankie?" Ray's high, incredulous voice brought Frank back from the wistful place of wishing he could just be eighteen already. "Frank _Iero_?" His eyes were bugging right out of his head, like he'd seen an actual ghost or something. Frank blinked, taken aback; sure, he'd been a kid, but did he really look all that different?

"Yeah?" he hazarded, and Ray's face split into a total beaming smile all of a sudden.

"Dude!" He clapped Frank on the shoulder, shaking him a little. "I didn't know you were back! Shit, how long has it even been, you're like," he waved a hand, indicating stomach height and then Frank's head. "Wait, do you even remember me at all? I'm Ray, Ray Toro, we had Kinetic Mechanics together way back when, right?"

"Like he'd forget you," Mikey scoffed, propping one hip against the bar in blatant disregard of the people trying to squeeze around them to order.

"Yeah, I remember you." It wasn't too much effort for Frank to put a smile on his face. "It's been a fucking while, though, man; seven years. What are you even doing now?"

"Huh? Me?" Ray fiddled with the neck of his beer, shrugging. "Piloting, mostly – second line, with Seven Stars, you know the bulk freight people?"

"Inner systems?" Frank had to shout the question; the place was filling up fast, and the noise of a thousand-odd people all talking excitedly at once was pressing in from every side. Ray nodded exaggeratedly, gesturing with his beer.

"Yeah, mostly! I kind of had to swap my schedule to be here, though, so I'm off all over the place for the next couple cycles, you know."

"Yeah, I get it." Most of the reason Frank had ended up shipping back here with Dewees' crew had been running into a guy who'd been going the right way, and willing to swap berths. "I did a few cycles of that – mostly couriers, though, delivery stuff, you know?"

"Oh, yeah." Ray lifted his beer like he was about to drink from it, then seemed to notice either Frank's drinkless state or, more likely, the puppy eyes he was making. "Hey, you want one...?"

"Uh, yeah, but –" Frank started, wincing inwardly – was there anything more embarrassing than having to admit you weren't able to get served, when everyone else was drinking? Mikey just snorted, though, swiveling to wave two fingers at the one human bartender.

"Hey, Mikeyway!" The guy – girl? Frank couldn't really tell, even from the busy swirl of surface thought patterns – scooted down the bar, nudging the drones aside. "More Astro? Yeah, sure, here." Two bottles appeared so quickly that Frank would have sworn telekinesis had been involved if the bartender's hands hadn't been a blur of a motion. Ze didn't bat an eye, either, when Mikey slid one down to Frank, instead settling into a half-shouted conversation about someone Frank didn't know. Frank tried to follow along for a few words, then shrugged, taking a careful sip and then a more enthusiastic swig when it proved to be decent stuff rather than the piss water he'd been half expecting.

"So are you, like, back for good?" Ray shouted, leaning in. "Or...?"

"Pretty much!" Frank looked away, eyes following the progress through the crowd of a chick with Mad Gear blue-and-green hair, cornrowed up to a crazy coxcomb spine along the top of her head. Maybe he should've spiked his own hair up, turned it into a proper 'hawk. "Workin' for the Ways," he jerked his head back at Mikey, "at least for the next few cycles, I guess." At least it didn't seem likely that Gerard would ask for an extension on Frank's contract.

"Really? Cool," Ray nodded, hair bouncing enthusiastically, and of course since it was the last thing Frank wanted to talk about right now, he was just opening his mouth when the lights started to dim and the chatter of the crowd swelled to a roar.

"Fuck." Frank drained at least half of his beer in a massive gulp, and thrust the bottle out blindly, not caring who took it. No matter if it was only the openers; he could still work some of the fucking twitches out of his system. _Catch you later_ , he sent to Mikey – who might or might not hear him – as the first thrum of guitar crashed out over the audience.

The first openers weren't bad; the singer had a tendency to mumble, but they had enough thrash and battery to them that Frank wasn't the only one throwing himself around. Megabeast, though, were from another fucking planet, tight and hard and full of scream and driving beats that had Frank cursing himself for never having heard of them until now. By the time they wound up with shouts of thanks to the crowd and the headliners and the venue staff, Frank's shirt was sticking to him and he was breathing hard, a couple of good aches forming in his ribs and back where elbows and shoulders had impacted. He joined the mass exodus to the bar while the crew and drones reset the stage, slamming up against Ray and making him jump even though he was supposed to be way more freaking clairvoyant than Frank.

"Beer me!" he demanded, popping up onto his toes and clinging stubbornly to Ray's shoulders when he tried to shake him off. At least until Ray snatched up his own drink and flailed it madly in Frank's direction.

"Here, here, just get off!"

"Your wish is my command." Frank jumped down – wow, Ray was tall – and grabbed for the beer, tipping his head back to chug it and only spilling a little bit down his shirt when some asshole shoved past him. "Fuck, that's better." He slammed the empty back onto the bar, grinning at Ray's glower.

"You're still a fucking menace, dude." Ray handed his credit bar over to the drone server for another beer, wrapping his arms protectively around it as Frank eyed it speculatively.

"Hell yeah," Frank agreed, smirking until someone else knocked into his back, staggering him. "Fucking watch it," he grumbled, _shoving_ back automatically and instantly feeling kind of bad about it when he saw that it was a girl. Her friend caught her, though – they both had their faces painted with red and yellow stripes across the eyes, cool – so Frank shrugged and turned back to Ray. Mikey had arrived, too, with some other guy in tow, all tight jeans and freaky giant grin. Frank just nodded, swiping his damp hair out of his face, and made hand gestures at the service drone until it gave him water, since it'd be kind of shitty to make people he hadn't seen in seven years buy for him all night.

It seemed to take the tech crew and drones a fucking age to set up the stage. Frank kept half his attention on them, rather than the shouted conversation Ray and Random Guy were having about what the band would open with, which in Frank's opinion was a no-fucking-brainer. Apparently Mikey thought so too, because he pushed past Frank, snagging his sweaty shirt-sleeve, when the last couple of techs were still fiddling with the monitors front of stage. _You wanna get up front, right?_ Frank heard, clear and deliberately projected at the top of his usually quiet mind.

_Fuck yeah_ , he sent back, and shoved forward, letting Mikey eel them through the shifting gaps between people. Sweat was tickling at the nape of his neck; the air conditioning was whirring overhead, barely effective in a room that already stunk of sweat and spilled beer.

They landed up against the last barrier above the very front, right by where the pit was gonna be, just as the stage lights went completely dark; Frank clung to the metal beam as the crowd surged forward, and whooped along with them as the house lights slowly dimmed.

The first guitar lick rang out into darkness, backed by the drums, and the crowd screamed so loud that Frank could barely hear the second guitar coming in as the footlights rose faintly around the edges of the stage. The dim, shadowy shapes of the band crashed into full neon illumination as the vocals came in, the lights flaring almost blindingly bright, and Frank yelled the chorus along with Mad Gear, what sounded like everyone in the crowd joining in the "fuck this whole wide world!"

He lasted one song, and a couple of lines of _Kill The Silence,_ before he had to _move_ , ducking under the barrier and throwing himself into the mess of flailing bodies up front. Somewhere in there, he thought he saw Ray, hanging back at the edge of the pit, and Mikey's friend with the freaky teeth, but it was mostly just a sea of people to fling himself up against, shoving and pushing and kicking as good as he got, while Mad Gear screamed down at them, a manic blur of blue-green mohawk and makeup-striped face. They played two encores, huge and furious and spitting until the venue staff started looking worriedly at their coms, and it was still a disappointment to come back down to solid ground when they finally signed off with a "Stay loud!" from the Missile Kid, aiming his guitar out at the crowd like a gun as the house lights came back up.

The throng of people heading for the exit, after, was thick enough that Frank couldn't make out either Mikey or Ray, so he just shoved his way through to the merch table, waiting impatiently in line until he could grab the shirts Jem had held for him, and a copy of Megabeast's record too since he was right there. After that, it was easier to let the crowd carry him along out the doors, and Frank figured either the guys would be waiting, or they wouldn't, and either way he could grab a smoke before heading back to the Ways. He was just fumbling through his pocket for his pack (only slightly crushed; score) when a hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, tugging him aside.

"Ew." Mikey made a face, letting go and wiping his hand against his jeans. "Gross."

"Fuck you too." Frank rolled his eyes, most of his attention on extracting the least-battered cigarette and pulling off the tab. "Shit," he exhaled, letting his shoulders relax and immediately feeling all the places he was going to have spectacular aches in a few hours. Right now, he just felt loose, fucked-out and tingling.

"Hey, are we...?" Ray slid up behind Frank, glancing hilariously obviously over his shoulder. Frank immediately popped up on his toes to try and see, but Mikey _pushed_ down on his shoulder, keeping him still.

"Yeah, c'mon."

"What?" Frank demanded, trying to twist, but they were herding him along ahead of him, skirting the edge of the building as the crowd quickly dispersed. "What, what is it?"

"Don't you have any sense of, like, self preservation at all?" Ray muttered, once they'd dragged Frank around the corner.

"Yeah, if you'd fucking explain!" Frank blew smoke into his face, making him scrunch his nose up hilariously. "Where're we even going, anyway?"

"Round back," was all Mikey said; Ray sighed, shaking his hair out of his face.

"Peace Keepers like to hang out down the block, you know? Make sure the place empties out fast and there's no trouble and all."

"Pretty sure they're just lookin' for an excuse to shut us down, now," a voice commented out of the alley mouth – Jem, Frank realized, once his heart was done trying to seize in his chest. "You here for the afterparty, Mikeyway?"

"Duh." Mikey wormed his fingers into the pocket of his stupidly tight jeans, extracting a chain of capsules. Kish, Frank thought; _awesome_. So awesome that he didn't even care that the so-called afterparty was actually just a bunch of people crammed into the back of the first openers' shitty shuttle hauler, passing the vaporizer around.

"Mikey. Mikeyyy." Frank tugged at the sleeve of Mikey's shirt, giggling a little at the way it rode up. This was good stuff, fuck; he took another puff, sliding a little further down against the side of the hull as it spun. "Mikey Way." He frowned in consideration as Mikey finally turned to blink down at him. "What?"

"What, yourself." Mikey twitched an eyebrow, and Frank blinked, then followed his gaze, staring down at the vaporizer in his hand.

"Oh." He passed it over – his hand was like, underwater or something, all slow-motion and heavy. Mikey was totally smirking, the asshole, as he inhaled, and Jem was leaning around him, giggling at Frank. Frank didn't mind, he decided; she was cool, which was probably why Mikey was talking to her.

"Dude." Ray nudged him in the side, snickering; Frank batted vaguely at his shoulder, sliding even further down until he wasn't quite sure whether he was horizontal or vertical. "You're like, so fucking high."

"Mmm." He was, like, vertizontal. Hortical? No, that sounded like a, a fucking, something. "'m like, _way_ high," he informed Ray totally seriously, right until he cracked up into choking giggles. Fuck, fucking Gerard; Frank was still too fucking sober, to be thinking about that asshole. "I need beer," he declared, waving a vague hand and pouting when it smacked into Mikey rather than anything actually drinkable. Although maybe Mikey was drinkable; Jem looked kind of like she might be willing to try, all tucked against him with their heads turned together. Huh.

"Dude, you okay there?" Ray peered down at him from very far away, and Frank pulled himself vaguely upright, grabbing Mikey's sleeve again as leverage.

"Dude," Mikey complained, tugging free; Frank slumped back against the hull, eyeing the vaporizer that had magically appeared in Ray's hand. Someone at the other end of the circle had dragged out an acoustic guitar and was strumming something; the music was traveling up Frank's spine and down his arms, making his fingers twitch. Cool.

"Mikey," he mumbled, reaching out to take the vapo from Ray. "Mikey, Mikey."

"What, dude?" Mikey still didn't seem to be paying much attention, but Ray was watching the vaporizer like he wanted to take it back, so Frank hurried to take a drag, his eyes sliding closed at the feel of it curling out along every limb. This was _really_ good stuff.

"Your brother," his mouth said, all on its own, and Frank almost went cross-eyed trying to stare down at it. What the hell, that wasn't cool.

"What about him?" Mikey plucked the vapo out of his hand before Frank could use it to shut himself the fuck up. "Man, you're baked enough."

"Fuck off," Frank mumbled, trying to prod his brain into gear. What had he... oh, right. "What the hell is his, fucking, _deal_ , you know?" He blinked at Mikey, awaiting illumination, but Mikey was busy hitting the vapo like it was the source of eternal life or some shit. "I don't get it, man."

"Gerard's like..." Ray trailed off, staring into nowhere, and Frank kind of zoned out a bit too, startling when he continued. " _Gerard_ , you know? You know, right?"

"I do not," Frank pronounced carefully. Fuck, this was bringing him right down, this was no good. "He's all, like, disappearing and pretending like I don't exist guy. The fuck is _up_ with that?"

"Huh?" Ray's eyes were really big and round, and Frank felt a giggle welling up under the surface. Fuck, Ray was stoned. Frank was stoned too. Shit.

"It's like," he started, before blanking. "Uh. Like, he thinks I'm gonna punch him for all that shit back then, only I wasn't really gonna, I just wanted to a whole lot, but he thinks I fuckin' should. Or something?" Possibly this explanation wasn't all that explanatory; Ray was squinting at him, and Mikey was listening to Jem. Frank plowed on, or his mouth did since it had kind of got away from him. "And it makes me wanna even more, hit him I mean, 'cause he's being a stupid motherfucker. But I can't, and he's just, like," Frank made a zooming gesture with his hand that ended with him toppling a very little bit into Mikey's side. "Oops. Uh. Yeah, why the fuck is he, like, running away guy all of a sudden, huh?"

"Why're you asking me?" Mikey said, slowly. Frank rolled his eyes, which made him feel awesome and spinny.

"You're his _brother_ ," he explained, staring at Mikey as he tried to will him to answer. The veil the kish fumes drew around his mind made it difficult to actually do that, though, which was a good thing because Frank couldn't quite remember why that was a bad idea right now. "You always know shit, Mikeyway, fucking... spill, or something." Frank eyed the vaporizer, which was making its way back toward him, and pounced gleefully as Ray waved it on past, glassy-eyed.

"You've had enough, man." Mikey floated the vaporizer unsteadily out of Frank's hands, ignoring his grumble of indignation. "And, seriously, if you wanna know Gerard's deal, try asking him."

* * *

To Frank's not-insignificant relief, dragging himself out of bed the next morning wasn't all that hard, despite the aches that started up in his limbs as soon as he moved. He didn't have a headache; kish didn't really give him a hangover so much as persistent fluff-mouth, and aside from that he'd only had the couple of beers he'd bummed off the guys. He was pretty sure he'd sweated most of it off, anyway; the laundry drones were going to have to burn the shirt he'd been wearing.

Gerard, as became obvious when Frank walked into the office to find him slumped into the corner of the couch with a hand firmly wedged over his eyes, was not nearly so lucky. Good, Frank thought with vicious satisfaction, and didn't bother to mask it with a shield. He made sure to stomp a little more than necessary, too, as he headed to his desk. Gerard made a soft, unhappy noise that wasn't quite a groan, flapping his free hand weakly in a motion that Frank didn't actually care about the meaning of, because he was ignoring it. He parked himself in his desk chair, staring narrow-eyed at the greasy tangle of Gerard's hair, and waited.

Gerard broke first, flailing himself into a slightly more upright position. "Stop it," he mumbled into the hand still shoved over his face, and Frank snorted, flicking his terminal on and docking his com so hard it beeped in protest. Gerard twitched visibly at the sound.

"Fucking... stop judging me so hard, asshole," he muttered, starting to push himself slowly to his feet. For a moment there he looked like he might actually puke, his skin sickly pale under the sweat that glistened across his brow and throat. Not that Frank cared.

"Fuck you," he snapped back, thinking – loudly – that a hangover was the least Gerard deserved after the fucking farce yesterday. Gerard made a wounded noise, clutching at his head like he was trying to hold it together, and staggered a couple of steps toward his office door. Frank snorted, because what a surprise, he was running away again, and Gerard must have caught that because he stopped cold, head snapping round in outrage that would have been a lot more convincing if his eyes weren't bloodshot and watery.

"What did I..." _ever do to you?!_ was the end of the sentence that he didn't say; whether it was the hangover or the brewing anger Frank could feel like a thunderstorm gathering, Gerard's shields were barely there. Frank breathed in hard through his nose, shying away from the sickening cloud of emotion that swirled out into the room before Gerard apparently made an effort to shut it down. What the fuck was with everyone feeling guilty at him these days, anyway? Frank was so fucking tired of it.

"What, you finally decided to acknowledge my fucking existence?" he snapped, fisting his hands on the desk. Gerard made a half-outraged, half-pained face that was just so fucking unfair Frank couldn't even. "Fucking goof off as much as you like," he snarled, "but don't expect me to cover for you again, asshole."

"...Fine," Gerard snapped back, and Frank stared determinedly at his screen, steadfastly ignoring the distress he could feel floating beneath the hot words. Served the fucker right. "Call the damn Epipolis offices, then, and set up the go-live meetings, if you think you're so..." He swallowed back the rest of that, but Frank heard it anyway, and his lip lifted in a sneer before he could catch it. It seemed to satisfy Gerard, who turned on his heel, storming into his office and slapping the door shut behind him.

The only thing that kept Frank from pitching something after him was that the first thing to come to hand was his com set. If he smashed up another one, Grandpa would fucking crucify him; he still weighed it in his hand, breathing hard, before slamming it back down and whirling to kick his chair as hard as he could. It shuddered away, wheels rattling reproachfully at him.

His shields were so ragged that he could feel Gerard moving about – slowly – in the inner office, so it wasn't a surprise when a voice behind him said, "Um. Are you – is everything okay?" It was one of the women from the front office, Frank couldn't remember her name, but he tried to smile anyway as he turned around, nudging his chair back toward the desk. "We heard shouting," she said, her eyes wide, and the half-scandalized interest Frank could feel fucking _pouring_ off her made him slam up his shields.

"There's no problem," he grit out, and she blinked but backed off, looking more than a little disappointed as she retreated. Frank breathed out, slow, and flopped down into the chair, which made a worrying crunching noise it definitely hadn't before, fuck.

"No fucking problem at all," he muttered to himself, skimming over the messages in his inbox. Nothing looked particularly urgent, so he shrugged and flipped up a network screen, searching for a contact node for the Epipolis executive. Fuck Gerard, anyway.

Surprisingly, or maybe not given the way they'd snapped at each other, Gerard actually did seem to get things done. By the time he stomped out to a lunch meeting with his parents at twelve-thirty, he'd sent Frank a whole fucking succession of messages asking for various documents, figures, and data sheets, and copied him in on more scheduling requests than Frank even knew what to do with. By that point, Frank felt like Gerard's hangover had been catching; there was a stabbing headache shifting behind his eyes, and he slumped back in his seat as Gerard's footsteps clomped off down the hall, sighing in relief. Fuck it, he was going to get lunch too.

He was munching his way through another epic sandwich, cross-legged on one of the stone benches in the east courtyard, when his com vibrated in his pocket, startling him so badly he almost dropped his lunch. Cursing, Frank fumbled it out of his pocket, stabbing the answer button without bothering to check more than that it wasn't his business node. "Hey?"

"Frankie? You're a pain in the ass to get hold of, motherfucker." Hambone.

"Dude." Frank rolled his eyes. "I have a fucking job, you dick. So do you, remember?"

"Yeah, whatever. I messaged you twice last night, so tell me how the fucking show was already."

"What, you jealous?" Frank couldn't help but grin, biting off another mouthful of sandwich and talking through it with only minimal food-related incomprehensibility. "Man, it was fucking epic; they played like three encores. You shoulda been there."

"Too goddamn right," Hambone grumbled, and Frank relaxed a little more, releasing some of his tight hold on his shields as he settled in to relay all the best parts from the night before. Maybe today was looking up.

* * *

It was weird how quickly life at the Way compound settled into a routine. Frank got up in the mornings and ate breakfast in the little kitchen-slash-cafeteria for the resident employees, sucking down a mug of lava masquerading as coffee to wake him up for real, and then wandered down to Gerard's office to start work. Gerard – who was like, the anti-routine – might or might not show up at some point in the morning, depending on what was on his schedule, and as distant and withdrawn as he acted around Frank, he'd at least started to treat him like an actual human being, albeit one who was a total stranger. Although, if Frank was honest with himself, he might as well have been; it was easier to pretend the past didn't exist than to dwell on it and reopen all the old, raw places.

In fact, everything was just fine, or at least manageable, right up until Mr Way walked into the room on the afternoon of Frank's third Wednesday in the job and stopped short, frowning at the open door of Gerard's empty office.

"Blast." Don Way stabbed at his com screen, muttering something under his breath. Clearing his throat uncertainly, Frank half-rose from his seat.

"Uh, can I help, sir?"

"Hm? Oh, Frank." Mr Way wheeled to face him, his frown easing a bit. "Don't suppose you know where Gee's got to? I need him to sign a couple of things, want to get them in to the Council tonight."

Shit. Frank squared his shoulders, doing his best to look professional and adult and all that shit. "He went out to a meeting with Mr Morrison, I think –" at least, he was sure Gerard had mumbled something about Grant as he'd hightailed it out the door, looking harried.

"Really?" That made Mr Way frown deeper. "I was just over there. He's not answering his com, either; when did he leave?"

"Um, about an hour and a half ago?" Frank hazarded, checking the clock on his terminal. "I might have misheard him, I guess?" He couldn't really think of where else Gerard would be, though; there was nothing in his schedule, and he was always over at the Morrison place, it seemed like.

"I'm sure I would have run into him, then; Grant was in the same meeting I was." Don stabbed at his com again, staring ferociously at the screen like he thought he could will it into connecting. The green glow pulsed steadily for twenty seconds before tipping over into the red of failure with a sad beep. "Damn it all. Son, could you try and track him down for me? The planning committee meeting's tomorrow; we'll have to wait a cycle if we miss it."

"Right, sir." Frank wasn't particularly enthused, especially since he still hadn't finished transcribing and coding Gerard's business expenses from the barely-legible scribble he'd sent over, but it wasn't like he was going to say no to the Head – co-Head, whatever – of the Family. He flipped up a message screen, typing out a terse request to please get in contact with the House immediately, and copied it to both Gerard's business and personal nodes as Don stomped back out of the room, already on the com to someone else.

Twenty minutes later, Frank had drawn an extensive and extremely frustrating blank. The secretary at the Morrison compound had looked blankly down the com at him when he'd asked whether Gerard was on their premises, and when Frank had, rather desperately, inquired after Grant Morrison, he'd been told the Heir had left for the spaceport to head off-planet. Mikey had replied to Frank's message first with _???_ and then, _at work. why would g be here?_ and Frank had paced the length of the office and back so many times he was about to wear a groove into the rug.

He was going to fucking kill Gerard. Frank took a deep breath, bracing one hand on the cool wall panel, and stabbed at the com screen, selecting the call button again. Even if Gerard was actually in a meeting, Frank was sure, he must have been driven mad by the constant buzzing by now. The obvious conclusion, therefore, was that Gerard had actually turned his com _off_ , which... Frank wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to know what the asshole was doing, but he wasn't surprised when the call failed to connect, the screen flashing briefly and apologetically red. "Fuck," Frank said to no one, and thumbed up through his contacts, out of the archive folder he'd buried Gerard's ID in years ago, to select Ray's ident.

"Come on, come on." It took for freaking ever to connect; Frank was starting to think this last tiny shred of hope was dead in the water by the time the com pinged happily and popped up a screen with Ray's frowning face.

"Frank? What's up, man?"

"Hey." Frank took a deep breath, because it was obvious from the edges of sky and permacrete he could see around Ray's head that he wasn't actually off-planet – at least, not this one. "Dude, I'm sorry to call, I guess you're busy and all, but I'm kind of running out of options here. Please, _please_ tell me you've seen Gerard."

"Gerard?" Ray's eyebrows drew even further down, and he squinted at Frank like he thought this was some kind of dumbass joke. "Why would I – I mean, I saw him last night, but isn't he working right now?"

"He should be, yeah." Frank bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to bust out with exactly what Gerard fucking Way could go do. "He went out a couple hours back, though, and of course now the Head wants him, and it's like he's vanished off the face of the fucking planet, man."

"Shit."

"Hah. Yeah." Frank scuffed a toe against the floor. "Fuck, I guess he's gotta turn up eventually, right...?"

"I guess," Ray echoed, but he was staring kind of worriedly into the com. "Frankie, you think..."

"What?" Frank prompted when nothing else was forthcoming, but Ray just shook his head, making his hair bounce crazily, his eyes on something offscreen.

"I gotta go, man, we're loading up. If he does call me before lift-off, I'll message you, okay? Okay," and he flipped the connection closed before Frank had even opened his mouth.

"Just tell him to get his ass back here," he told the empty screen, stupidly, and flung himself into his chair so hard it creaked and shuddered sideways, almost dumping him onto the floor. "Fuck." Ray had been a long shot to start with, and Frank was now officially out of ideas. Uselessly, he pulled Gerard's schedule up again on the terminal, staring at the blank space that indicated exactly fuck-all. The thought of going down the hall to tell the Head that the Heir had just disappeared – no. Frank flopped over the edge of the desk, banging his forehead against it. There must be some way to find the stupid asshole; he couldn't believe Gerard would actually _literally_ disappear off the planet, not in bright fucking daylight when he was supposed to be busy, and definitely not without telling Mikey about it.

Fuck, Mikey. Frank sat up, staring through the translucent holo screen suspended above the terminal. Mikey might not be a telepath, officially, but Gerard had always been the exception, right? He had to be able to find him, but he was on shift at the spaceport, scanning the skies from the traffic control tower; no way could Frank drag him away outside of an actual emergency, the kind with Peace Keepers and emergency teams and blaring sirens.

But. Frank drew a slow breath in. Mikey wasn't the only one who knew Gerard's mental signature. It had been years, and he'd shoved that part of his life into as small and tight a box as he could, mentally labeled DON'T TOUCH MOTHERFUCKER, but Frank was sure he could still pick Gerard's thoughts out of any hiding place short of an actual shielded room. He just... wasn't sure he could bring himself to. He'd spent so long telling himself he didn't care, sliding around the hurt of it; why the hell was it his problem, if Gerard got shit for skipping out on his duties?

"Fucking motherfucking cocksucking shit," Frank told the terminal, which beeped questioningly, unable to decipher what he wanted, until he slapped it silent. It was his problem – hell, _Gerard_ was Frank's fucking problem, now, and he'd be the one taking the shit if the idiot had actually been mugged or kidnapped or knocked down by a shuttlecar and was lying in a fucking ditch somewhere. Clearly the entire fucking universe was having a great time laughing at Frank right now.

Frank eyed the doorway, half-hoping someone would come through it to tell him there'd been a mistake and Gerard was helping his mom out with the shipbuilders' conference, but of course no one arrived, and after a few more hopeful seconds he sighed, slumping back in his chair and letting his body go limp and boneless. A breath in, slow, and out, and he started to relax his shields, loosing his senses just enough that he could _feel_ the outlines of the walls overlaid on the visuals, the busy hum of other minds working in the rest of the house. They were all familiar, recognizable, unremarkable aside from the occasional brighter spark of another telepath, the smooth roundedness of shields. Frank let his eyes slip shut, and his mind roam outward.

_Gerard?_ He kept the call to a tight band, the old linkage rusty and uncomfortable with disuse, but as hard as he reached, there was no answering thought to align with his. Frank drew in another breath, frustrated, and stretched out further, clairvoyant senses working hand-in-hand with telepathic ones as his mind's eye roamed out over the city, skimming over the surface cacophony of a million shouted and whispered thoughts. Automatically, he cataloged the points of familiarity: his mom, headed toward the river docks; Grandpa at the Capitol; his classmates from the Center wrapped securely in their shields. It got overwhelming fast, and Frank felt the telltale pulse of an overextension headache starting to build, was about to pull back, when his mental touch snagged on a bubble of thought-speech-emotion that stopped him dead.

_There_. Gerard, distant and blurry, and he pulled away almost immediately when Frank tried to make a stronger contact, but it was definitely him. Frank scrunched his brows up ferociously, concentrating, but without the reciprocal link the sensation was so diffuse that he couldn't get more than a vague idea of location before his skull stabbed warningly at his brain and he had to let go, settling back into the borders of his own body and mind.

"Ffffuck." It had been a while since he'd overstretched himself; Frank had forgotten how much it hurt. Rubbing forcefully at the bridge of his nose, he kept his eyes closed while he rebuilt his shields, waiting for the throb of pain to subside. "Ugh." He should probably take a pill, knock the fucker out before it could get started for real, but his med stash was back in his room, and there was too much of a chance that Gerard would disappear again, if Frank left it any longer. Groaning, he shoved himself upright, clamped down ruthlessly on the faint swirl of vertigo, and headed determinedly for the door.

To Frank's vague surprise, the security monitor at the shuttlecar garage beeped obligingly at his handprint, turning green as the door scrolled open. There were only a couple of vehicles available, so Frank picked the smaller, faster two-seater, buckling himself carefully in and doing a quick inventory of the controls. Pretty standard, even if it had been a while; he shrugged and flipped off the parking brake and immobilizer, firing up the hoverdrive to ease out onto the driveway.

Gerard's mental signature had been a ways away to the west, so that was the direction Frank turned out of the compound gate, flipping up the map screen with one hand and both eyes on the traffic. It was rolling up on the end of the workday, and everyone in the city, or so it seemed, had decided to head for the shopping district; the transit pods were chained into tentacle trains that crept past barely faster than the three-flight stacks of personal vehicles. Fuck that, Frank decided, and made the first turn he could, aiming for where he vaguely remembered there being a bypass riser. Though he couldn't directly sense Gerard any longer, he could tell when he was heading in the right direction, following the whispering _that way_ in his head.

It was a good thing, Frank considered, checking the prox monitors and signaling for the turn-off before the skyway curved away to the north, that clairvoyance was one of his stronger factors, aside from telepathy. Fuck knew he'd never appreciated it all that much until he'd started piloting courses. The shuttlecar's drive whirred as he zipped it around a larger, slower delivery drone, hesitating at the junction of the street before taking the left to head into what the map called the Old Quarter.

Other than a vague idea that it wasn't the greatest of neighborhoods, crammed in like a thin slice of pie between the dockyards in the north and the canal to the west, Frank didn't have much memory of this part of the city. The narrowing streets, though, and the peeling permacrete of the buildings, more than a few storefronts he passed boarded up with white holo notices plastered gleaming over the grime, reminded him a little of some of the Stations he'd hit with the Firelli crews. What fragments of thought he caught by chance were grim, suspicious, calculating, and he could feel the attention the Ways' shiny new shuttlecar drew even though none of the pedestrians turned their heads to watch him go.

What little signal he'd been following stuttered out altogether as he made the turn off the canalside strip, and Frank glanced around, trying to get a feel for where the hell he was before giving up and setting the shuttlecar down at the side of the street. No parking bay, but it wasn't like there was much traffic to block; he clenched his fingers around the controls, trying to force his mind to relax before giving up and reaching out.

Less than three seconds of blind groping for a signature, and he had him. Frank blew out a breath, latching firmly onto the muddy swirl of Gerard's mind, and opened his eyes, zeroing in on the ripped doorshade of what had to be a spectacularly shitty bar, judging by the near-illegible flicker of the holos over the windows. He felt the presence of the door guy before he actually stepped out of the shadows, but acting like you expected shit was a surefire way to get it, so Frank squared his shoulders and marched right on over.

"Take a hike, kid," the man-mountain, who had to be easily three times Frank's size, rumbled. For fuck's sake, Frank thought, and huffed out through his nose.

"What, you talk to all the customers like that?"

"Fancy piece of shit like you got," the guy nodded toward the shuttlecar, "there's gonna be pigs crawling all over soon enough. So, take a hike, kid."

"Fuck, whatever." Frank rolled his eyes. "I'm not – look, I'm just here to collect someone, okay."

The guy eyed him warily. "They ain't here."

"The hell he isn't." Frank stuffed his hands in his pockets; starting shit with this motherfucker would not end well. Dude had muscles on his muscles. "He's right in there, and I'm gonna go in and drag him out and then we're both gonna fuck right off, okay?" So maybe he left out the part where he was going to punch Gerard in the fucking face, with an option on the balls too; that was need-to-know. "C'mon, white guy this high, crazy hair, wearing black and black. Piss fucking drunk," Frank added, because he could _feel_ it from here, the wobbling unsteadiness of Gerard's shields sloshing thought fragments all over the shop.

The door guy gave him the eye for a couple more seconds, but either he was a borderline telepath or he just had no natural shields, because Frank could hear his surface thoughts clear as day as he decided what the hell, shifting minutely aside. "Five minutes, or you're both out on your asses," he grumbled, already calculating the odds of Gerard puking before or after he left the bar. Which, great. Frank bit off a curse, clenching his fists at his side as he shoved through the door.

The bar was dim, most of the light coming from the liquor taps and a holo in the corner that was playing a strip dance vid, and even the rows of bottles along the back wall were dulled by a film of grease. Fry-oil and soured beer were thick in the air, and Frank's shoes stuck to the floor after two steps, peeling loudly off the painted permacrete. He'd been wrong; this was way downmarket from any of the dives he'd hit with James or Tey or Jamia.

The place was empty, or mostly so; a woman behind the bar snapped her head up when Frank entered, and what might have been pipes and pill blisters and a medi-spray disappeared from the countertop so fast he couldn't even have said for sure what he'd seen. There were a couple of people perched on stools at the bar, a group in the far corner whose eyes had all turned to him, but Frank ignored them, his gaze fixed on the table where Gerard was slumped over behind a collection of empty glasses, some greasy guy backing hastily away from the other stool.

Fuck. Okay. Frank took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it as he tried not to cough. Or heave, since it smelled like someone already had. More than one someone, even. "Come the fuck on," he declared to no one in particular, marching over to grab Gerard's arm and haul it over his shoulder. "You. Out of here. Now."

"Haah... Huh?" Gerard flailed spasmodically, then went still, half-draped against Frank for a long moment before he seemed to remember himself, pushing Frank away. "Frankie? No, g'way. 'm busy."

"The hell you are." Frank gritted his teeth, and got one hand wedged firmly under Gerard's belt, yanking him up off the seat. "You are in so much fucking shit, you asshole, and that's gonna be _after_ I'm through with you. Now _move_ , you stupid wasted motherfucker."

"'m not _wasted_." Gerard actually sounded indignant, and Frank could feel him trying to pull away, back toward the table, but he seemed to be having some trouble making his legs obey him and kept listing back onto Frank's shoulder. Frank had to half-drag, half-carry him toward the door, and the group in the corner didn't bother to hide their chuckles, let alone their thoughts, but their vicious amusement was barely detectable beneath the telepathic mess of Gerard's chemically-fucked mind. Even shielding himself as hard as he could, blocking out the interference, Frank could tell there'd been more than just alcohol involved, to put him in this state.

"Thanks for nothing," he huffed – not actually all that loudly, okay, he didn't have a fucking death wish – in the direction of the bouncer as he hauled Gerard out onto the street. The smell wasn't all that great out there either, stagnant water and garbage, but it was still better than the damp greasiness of the bar. What the hell had Gerard been doing down here anyway?

"F'kin... Grant," Gerard mumbled into Frank's shoulder, and Frank almost tripped over and sent them both sprawling, before he realized that his shields were still intact. Gerard was just rambling, because he was a drunk and drugged-up asshole, and really Frank had no fucking idea what he was still doing here, because it wasn't like he could drag the stupid heavy motherfucker up to his dad's office like this.

"Here." He tried to untangle his hand from its death-grip on Gerard's belt, but Gerard lurched, trying to reach out or something, so Frank kicked at his ankle to make him stop and heaved and bent until he could shove Gerard's hand up against the shuttlecar's lock plate, sweaty palm first. Gerard started to topple as the door slid open, so Frank let him, shrugging out from under him and shoving and pushing until he was mostly-sort-of slumped in the seat.

"Good enough," Frank muttered, ignoring Gerard's half-vocalized complaints, and stomped around to the driver's side.

"Where're you takin' me?" Gerard demanded as soon as Frank started up the hoverdrive. "This's my car, you..."

"Shut the fuck up," Frank snapped; now that the immediate need to get out of there had been dealt with, the pissed off was rolling in thick and fast. "Of course it's your fucking car; I'm taking you home. You goddamn moron."

"...'m not a moron." Gerard sounded upset, squinting down at his chest with one eye half-closed as he tried, slowly, to slot the harness buckles together. He had one side backward, but Frank wasn't in the mood to tell him so.

"Motherfucker, I've been looking for you all afternoon. Your fucking Dad's been after you; he needed you to sign some shit, but no one knew where in the fucking fuck you'd fucked off to!" Frank had to stop to breathe; Gerard was blinking at him rapidly, as though he was trying to process that, and Frank could _feel_ the oh-shit trying to seep through the fog of his thoughts. His blasted shields had come unstuck again, but he couldn't stop now that he'd started; it was like every bit of anger and bitterness and resentment of the last seven years, dredged up over the last few cycles, was determined to spill on out of his mouth. "You're a fucking asshole, leaving us all the shit so you can get trashed on fuck knows what when you should be doing your goddamn job! The Gerard I used to know would never have–"

"I'm not that fuckin' kid!" Gerard broke into Frank's rant, high and hoarse and almost desperate, almost sober-sounding. The emotion was so thick in the confined space that Frank could barely tell what was his; a morass of hurt-regret-resentment-fear all stretched and ground in with age. He reached fruitlessly for his shields, trying to concentrate on keeping the shuttlecar on an even course and not actually killing them both.

"Yeah, you made that pretty fucking clear back then, thanks!" he snarled, finger bones creaking with the grip he had on the steering. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, shit, once a fucking traitor..."

"I – you, what?" Gerard abandoned his cross-eyed efforts at the seatbelt to stare at Frank for a second, before dropping his gaze back to the buckle like he'd never seen it before. The blurry teeter-totter of his mind colored blue-white with shock, horror and denial seeping up like a rising flood, and Frank caught a snatch of surfacing thought before he could slam up his barriers: _never should have let them take him, I fucked it up, I fucked it all up–_

"What –" Frank started, stunned almost out of the fury, but Gerard must have realized he'd slipped, or else something he'd taken had finally kicked in, because it was like he just switched off, wide eyes sliding shut and body slumping down into the passenger seat, thoughts fading to a queasy wall of blank white noise. Shit, Frank thought vehemently, but for a small mercy Gerard did at least manage to wait until they were out of the shuttlecar before he doubled over and started puking.

* * *

Gerard still slept in the same cluttered top-floor room he had when Frank had been young enough for illicit zombie holo marathons with him and Mikey. Some of the clutter might have changed – new posters projected on the wall panels, and the parade of action-figure heroes and villains had wound its way all down the shelves, across the top of the desk, and onto the windowsill – but it sent a trickle of disconcerting recognition down Frank's spine anyway. He'd had to get one of the house-drones to help him drag Gerard up here, and the familiarity with which it treated the task had Frank suspecting it wasn't the first time. It hadn't even asked whether it should call for a doctor, or med supplies, when Gerard had passed out finally.

This whole thing was just fucking ridiculous. Frank sprawled in the ratty armchair he'd had to unearth from a mountain of laundry, one eye on the shadowy lump of Gerard on the bed while he messaged back and forth with Hambone and, later, Jamia. He wasn't honestly sure he'd even give a shit if Gerard died choking on his own vomit, but for one thing Mikey'd kill him, and for another, like hell Frank was going to be deprived of the opportunity to punch the motherfucker. In the fucking _face_.

Somewhere in the early morning, when Frank's eyes were starting to smart with tiredness as he stared at his com screen, and even the dull burn of anger couldn't stop him from yawning any more, Gerard finally started to stir. He'd graduated from unconscious stillness to soft snoring a few hours back, but Frank had turned off the window shade rather than put the lamp on earlier, and now sunlight was creeping up over the bed, shining sickly-pale off his skin. Frank lowered the com, watching Gerard twitch again, slack face crumpling into a grimace as his mind started to rise out of the deep slow rhythm of sleep.

Either Gerard had no clue Frank was there, or his defenses were still shot from whatever he'd taken. Frank could feel the _Ow_ and _what – oh fuck..._ as clear as if they were linked. Then again, maybe Gerard didn't see the need to put his shields up immediately, since his fucking _room was shielded_. It had taken Frank a while to work it out; turning off the window shade had made enough of a gap that his com and clairvoyance worked just fine, but after he'd realized he couldn't sense past the walls, he'd checked. The whole room had been shielded, and the only thing Frank could figure was that Gerard must have done it entirely himself, because _why_?

"Ugh," Gerard groaned out loud, making Frank jump; it was clear from the sickly muddle of his thoughts that whatever he'd taken yesterday was fighting back now, with a vengeance. Frank swallowed against the trickle of nausea and headache dripping from Gerard's every brainwave and took a moment to reconstruct his own barriers, building them up like a silent, transparent wall that let him _see_ what Gerard was projecting without being affected by it or letting any of himself out.

"Fuck," Gerard muttered thickly, cracking his eyes open then immediately screwing them shut against the still-thin morning light. He flopped out one hand, groping spasmodically at his clothes and bed, and Frank felt the _okay_ of his realization that he was in his own room, not – well, fuck knew where he'd expected to be, but there was definitely some relief there. He shoved weakly against the bed, trying to turn away from the light that was still falling cheerfully across his face, and eventually succeeded in flopping limply over onto his side, pushing his face into the pillow with a moan. For a second there Frank thought he might actually puke (again), and had pre-emptively decided Gerard could just deal with that himself, but he waited it out and the greenish tinge to his face (and his thoughts, fucking gross) died back.

It still took another long moment before Gerard cracked his eyes open again, blinking blurrily as he tried to clear them. It was obvious the moment he actually saw Frank sitting there watching him, because he went completely and utterly still, bloodshot eyes wide and a cloud of _oh shit_ and _no_ fizzing in the air before he made a labored and clearly painful effort to put up his shields.

The staring contest stretched out awkwardly until Gerard broke first, dropping his gaze and pushing himself slowly into a half-sitting position. "Uh," his voice came out a rusty croak, "how much of that actually happened?"

"Well, I don't know." Frank had to stop and take a breath, because oh, there was all that anger from last night, right on cue. "I guess I can't really help you with anything from before I dragged your wasted ass outta that shithole in the Old Quarter, but if you mean the part where you gave me a bunch of fucking bullshit and then puked on my fucking shoes, yeah. That happened, asshole."

"...Fuck." Gerard slumped back against his pillows, squeezing his eyes shut, and Frank snorted.

"Yeah." Gerard's shields were still kind of patchy; there was a whole lot of mortified horror slipping through, which, Frank couldn't lie, that was kind of satisfying. "I don't actually give a shit if you wanna get off your face on fucking – booze or pills or even fucking _tar_ , okay, but you can leave me the fuck out of it. Shouldn't be that hard for you, at this point." That came out with more bitterness than Frank really meant, and Gerard visibly flinched; Frank caught a flash of confused memory, the cab of the shuttlecar and his own angry, stunned face, haloed in the remembered horror of having let slip more than he'd meant.

"I..." Gerard stared at him; Frank could feel him trying to shore up his shields, but it was too little and too late. The emotions were too strong; even tangled and patchy, Frank could see the depth of it, hurt-shame-regret and a muddle of images, Mikey and Ms Way's worried face and Frank-as-a-kid, and there was that thread of thought again, _I should never have let them–_

Frank latched onto it before he could even consider otherwise, narrowing his eyes as he ignored the way Gerard tried to shy away from the link. _Tell me_ , he demanded, and, _Gerard._

_I don't –_ Gerard started, but Frank _pushed_ , staring him down until he dropped his eyes, hunching into himself. _I didn't – I didn't mean to, okay. I didn't know, until Mama–_ The memory attached to that showed him Dr Morrison's face, too, and Frank blinked.

"What?"

"They said – it wasn't good for you, you know, that we were friends and all." Gerard shrugged one shoulder jerkily, looking down at his lap where his hands were twisting the hem of his jacket. "I guess I believed them, back then; they were saying how linking with me too much was gonna fuck you up, since I was older and shit and you were, you know, still a kid."

"...the fuck." Frank couldn't – he had no idea – "What. The fuck."

"Uh-huh." Gerard swallowed, loudly. "And, so, when they said you were leaving, I wanted – but, Mama said it would be easier for you to have, like, a clean break. I guess, I wanted to believe her, you know?" _I was such a fucking mess they were probably right anyway_.

"Fuck that," Frank snapped automatically, but then he had to kind of slow down and stop, because all he could remember was his mom's frown as she'd asked him about Gerard. Had that...? "You couldn't have fucked me up any more than _cutting me off_ did, asshole." _I couldn't even hate you for so long–_ he cut himself off by main force, slamming up his shields so hard that Gerard physically flinched back. "That's fucking bullshit. I can look out for myself."

"You were _ten_ ," Gerard protested, raspy and pained. "Spending so much time in my head – it wasn't healthy, and I should have – fuck, Frankie, I almost got you arrested, or fucking _killed_..."

"Don't fucking call me that." Enough was enough; Frank had to get out of here before he lost hold of his shields again. They were slipping already, his control eroded by emotion and exhaustion. "I don't need anyone to decide who I can fucking talk to, okay," he snapped, and shoved himself to his feet, managing to only stagger a bit as his feet protested the sudden resumption of blood flow. "Least of all you, asshole." And he turned on his heel, stomping over to the door.

"Frank," Gerard started, and Frank _felt_ him start to push upright only to subside with a hand clapped over his mouth. Frank ignored him, slapping at the panel until the door opened and storming down the hall toward the refuge of his own room. Nothing, not even the realization that he'd left his puke-y shoes dumped in Gerard's bathroom, and certainly not Gerard's wobbly attempt to reach out to him, was enough to make him turn back.

* * *

Frank slept most of the rest of the day, grateful that it was the weekend and no one was going to be on his case for it. He avoided both the offices and the family wing of the House when he did finally wake up for good, only slouching briefly into the cafeteria for food before barricading himself back into his room with the assignments he should have been working on last night. At least schoolwork gave him something to concentrate on, even if writing a paper about the economic impact of the platinum mines on Tiercel D was the most fucking tedious way possible to spend a Saturday night.

Of course, since he'd only dragged himself out of bed at fifteen in the afternoon, it was fucking impossible to actually fall asleep that night. Frank was still propped up against the foot of his bed way past midnight, mindlessly shooting alien leech-vampires on the holo and circling around and around the same set of thoughts like a faulty transit pod. He couldn't believe that his mom and dad would actually have dragged him halfway across known space just to get him away from Gerard... but with what Gerard had said about _his_ mom, and Dr Morrison even, it was too much of a coincidence... but. But, but, but... Every turn around the wheel just wound him up further, until Frank flung the game control across the room in disgust and stomped into his tiny closet of a bathroom to shower.

Hot water helped, but jerking off, fast and brutal until the orgasm slammed into him like a freighter, leaving him wrung-out and blank, helped more. Frank buried himself face first in his pillow, Mad Gear blaring though his headphones, and determinedly didn't think about Gerard until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

Sunday was better, at least until Frank walked into the coffeehouse a couple of blocks from the Council building and nearly tripped right over Mikey and Gerard where they were leaning on the counter. There was a weird moment of time stretching out, where Frank seriously contemplated turning right the fuck around and leaving, but Mikey glanced over right then and nodded to him, all 'hey what's up,' like it was nothing. Frank couldn't actually make himself be an asshole to Mikey, even if he was still firmly on the side of Gerard deserving it, so he shrugged one shoulder, shoving his hands further into his hoodie pockets, and went up to order.

"Hey." Gerard's voice was subdued – wary, Frank thought, and his shields were so tight that there was nothing to read. Mikey had gone back to chatting with the girl operating the giant hissing drink machine, so Frank just nodded in return, handing over his credit bar and ID to the older woman taking money. He'd been in here only a couple of times so far, on Patrick and Luce's recommendation, and it was kind of cool; they had some sort of thing about making all their stuff by hand rather than using drones.

"C'mon," Mikey jerked his head in the direction of a booth in back, setting off without looking back at either of them. Frank kind of surreptitiously glanced at Gerard while he was getting his coffee, but he didn't look completely reluctant or anything, more just nervous with his hands clutched around his cup and one side of his lower lip caught between his teeth. It was unexpectedly charming, and Frank rolled his shoulders a bit, striding out to catch up with Mikey and slide into the opposite side of the booth. Gerard, trailing after them, made a resigned sort of noise and he and Mikey had a staring contest that might or might not have been a telepathic argument until Mikey rolled his eyes and made room.

"...So," Gerard blurted, then seemed to think better of it, turning his mug around and around in his hands. Frank waited, in case there was more, but Gerard didn't seem to want to look at him and eventually Mikey shifted a bit, sliding down in the smooth booth seat and propping his feet on the other side, next to Frank's knees. The toes of his shoes pointed inward, knocking together.

"Mission Blue's playing down at the Factory next week." Mikey glanced up from his careful concentration on his coffee, raising one eyebrow a hair's breadth. "You in?"

"Sure, I guess." Frank prodded warily at the side of his mug, trying to divine when it was safe to drink without burning his tongue and looking like an idiot. "That's the place down by the dockyard, right?"

"Uh-huh. They just got their license back, guess the Council couldn't find an excuse to shut them down for good." Mikey knocked back a slug of coffee like it was spirits, barely seeming to notice the steam coming off it. Gerard was still stirring the little plastic stick around his, maybe watching the patterns in the skin of foam or just zoned out. He was kind of weirding Frank out, to be honest; he had his shields up so tight it was like he wasn't even there.

"It's kind of weird not knowing this shit," Frank's mouth said without him, and he tried to shut it up by grabbing his coffee, but it stung his lips enough that he winced away. "Fuck. I mean, I feel like I _should_ know this stuff, you know, fucking home turf and whatever, but it's not like I cared about shows or bars or where to get... stuff, when I was a kid, you know?"

"Uh-huh." Mikey nudged Gerard with one elbow, making him jump. Coffee sloshed over the top of his mug, and he made an unhappy noise, pulling it protectively away. Frank looked down at his own coffee to hide the smile that was tugging at his mouth.

"So." He groped for something to say, eventually settling on, "Did you guys see the _Black Saints_ holo this summer?" That was safe, surely.

"See it?" Mikey snorted as Gerard jerked upright like Frank's words had been a lightning bolt of reanimation. "Gee practically moved into the holoplex that cycle, how many times did you even watch it?" he asked with a glance at Gerard, who huffed and shoved at him.

"It was only six times. Or so." He looked a little shifty around the eyes, though, and Frank couldn't resist poking.

"So, seven, then?"

"Or so." Gerard rolled his eyes, waving his free hand in what were probably, to him, explanatory shapes. "Whatever, okay, it was fucking epic. Can you believe that whole thing they did with Lotte's backstory? It was even better than the graphics."

"What, no way." Frank stabbed a finger at him across the table, settling back against the booth. "You can't just _change the canon_ , man, it like – it twisted her whole motivation and stuff, and the connection with Zee's story."

"Yeah, but it doesn't have to be exactly the same," Gerard insisted, almost spilling his own coffee this time. "Fuck." He drained about half the mug in a hasty gulp, pushing it aside. "The way they showed it, with the kid, it just worked better. They had to, like, compress up the timeline anyway, right? It was never gonna match the graphic canon one hundred percent, you know, but showing different parts of the story like that, it still fits together. Like, different sides of the story. Fucking, perspectives and shit."

"Yeah, but the other stuff they changed actually made sense," Frank argued, glancing to Mikey to see if he agreed, but he was just sitting there with his coffee in one hand and com in the other, watching them over the top of both. There was definitely a hint of a smirk in the corners of his eyes and mouth, the smug fucker. Frank made a face at him as Gerard took a big breath and started to expound on his theories about where the writer was going with the graphic storyline. The moment he paused for breath, Frank had to jump in to tell him how wrong he was about the Dark ( _so_ wrong), and it was... easier, even though things kept snagging on his memories and dragging them up.

It was pretty clear Gerard could have kept talking all night, but after a particularly emphatic point that he leaned over the table as though he was willing Frank to agree with, he lifted his empty mug and tried to take a drink, so that was that. Mikey poked at his brother until he clambered out of the booth, and jerked his head for Frank to follow. Gerard insisted on getting another coffee to go, and Frank was surprised to see the sky darkening toward evening when they trailed out onto the street. He hadn't even noticed he was hungry, but his stomach was definitely complaining now, like it wanted to make up for lost time.

"Hey, Frank." Mikey stuffed his hands into his pockets, striding out ahead with his stupid long legs. Frank hated tall people. "Isn't it, like, your birthday this cycle?"

"What?" Gerard whipped around, eyes wide behind his stupid sunglasses, and nearly tripped over the wall lining the roadway. "Fuck. When?"

"Next week." Frank rolled his eyes and his shoulders in a shrug. "It's not a big deal or anything."

"Eighteen," Mikey pointed out, and Gerard frowned, shaking his head.

"I'm supposed to know that. Aren't I? Like, I mean I guess I'm your employer or – well, technically Mom and Dad are, but I should still know that. Fuck."

"Whatever, jeez." It came out kind of shorter than Frank really intended, and he stared down at the permacrete as the silence started to twist uncomfortably in the awkward spaces between them. The side of his left shoe was coming away from the sole; he'd have to get new ones, or maybe he could fix it? Glue, or something.

"I was thinking," Gerard blurted just as they rounded the corner onto the plaza out front of the council buildings and the Center. He broke off, tugging Mikey out of the way of a group coming the other way, then blinked rapidly, like a terminal restoring from a save. "This whole Epipolis thing, someone's gotta go out there to check in with their people and shit, but Mom and Dad don't have the time before, like, year-end. So I was thinking I could probably reschedule my shit, you know, and ship out there next week. And, uh, you too, Frankie, I gue – oh, hey," he interrupted himself, visibly perking up as he craned his neck to peer across the plaza. "There's Grant. Fuck, I gotta go, okay? Call me later, Mikes!" he all but yelled over his shoulder, having already taken off at a trot.

"The fuck?" Frank jumped up onto his toes, staring, but there were too many people crossing the white flagstones for him to catch more than a glimpse of Grant Morrison's bald head and weird high-collared coat. In moments Gerard had caught up to him, the smile on his face visible a mile off, and they'd both climbed into the expensive shuttlecar waiting at the roped-off bay.

"Huh," Mikey said, more of an observation than any kind of expression of surprise, Frank thought.

"Your brother," he muttered back, hunching down into his hoodie and shouldering between the tall assholes who seemed to be infesting the place today, standing around in groups and huddles. Someone was shouting something over by the Capitol, it sounded like.

"Yeah." Mikey slowed a bit, staring toward whatever was going on, then shook his head, catching up to Frank in a couple of strides. Either he was using his telekinesis or he was just fucking magic, because everyone was moving out of his way, the fucker. "Look, I was gonna say. Gee's kind of... well, I don't know what went down back then, but he was kind of fucked up about it. So, you know. You know?"

"Uh. No?" Frank slowed even more, turning to squint at Mikey and automatically reaching out for clarification. Dude was hard to read, as always, but it kind of seemed like he meant _back then_ when kid-Frank had left, back then. Which, huh.

"Fuck. Just, don't be an asshole for the hell of it or whatever," Mikey mumbled, glancing around again. "Move, dude, I think..."

"What?" Frank stopped completely, pushing up onto his toes to stare around, trying to see over the crowd that had gathered. "What is it?"

"Move," Mikey insisted shortly, snagging at Frank's sleeve with an invisible grip and _tugging_ until he had to shift his feet or be pulled off them. Over by the steps of the Capitol, the shouting was getting louder, and there was a crash of something breaking; when Frank turned his head, stumbling over his feet, he could see a handful of people, two women and an older guy, halfway up the steps waving signboards, splashes of brightly-painted words against the white walls. Frank wanted to see what they were saying, to stop to listen, but Mikey had a solid grip and was dragging him determinedly away.

They'd almost reached the end of the street leading down to the Way compound when the sirens became audible, sweeping closer in a crescendo. Mikey cursed, but Frank could only tell from the shapes of his lips; the protesters or whoever they were had gotten louder as the Peace Keepers' sirens closed in. The first shuttles came into view then, circling in to land in the center of the plaza and disgorging a wave of white uniforms who surrounded both the protesters and the crowd in a matter of seconds.

"Fuck," Frank realized, staring back over his shoulder even as he hurried his feet, breaking into a run. They were almost to the corner when Mikey stopped so sharply that Frank ran right into his back and almost fell on his ass, but without the pounding of his own feet on the permacrete, he could hear the deep whine of high-powered shuttles getting closer.

"Fuck," Mikey echoed him, staring around; Frank grabbed for his arm, meaning to pull him back the other way and try to get into the Center or something, but Mikey whirled, eyes wide and white-rimmed, and grabbed at his shoulders, and–

The world went _pop._

Then it popped again, twisting violently through three hundred and sixty degrees, and Frank staggered and clung to Mikey because suddenly he was standing in the east courtyard garden in the Way compound.

"What the fuck –" Frank had to stop and swallow; his stomach was doing panicked three-sixties, and his head felt _stretched_ and back-to-front as his clairvoyant sense briefly tried to insist that he was in two places at once.

"Whoa," Mikey inched away from Frank's grip, wrapping a bony hand around his arm instead. "You gonna hurl?"

"No." Fuck, what – "You said that was impossible," Frank accused indignantly, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to reset his brain to just one location. That had been a fucking weird feeling, but now he wondered if he could get Mikey to do it again, or better, show him how.

"It is. Officially." Mikey hitched one shoulder vaguely upward a centimeter or two. "I'm not into being studied."

"Huh." He was right, Frank knew; if anyone official got so much as a sniff of teleportation (holy _shit_ ), Mikey'd be locked up in the Center faster than he could... "Wait, couldn't you just, like, teleport away if they got you?"

Mikey looked at him like he was an idiot. "Gee can't. Or Mom or Dad."

"Oh." That was kind of a point, although Frank had trouble believing Doctor Morrison would actually threaten anyone's family. Maybe she wasn't at the Center any more, though? Clan Morrison had been in the news a whole bunch lately; they had to be busy. "Right. Can you, like, show me how it works, though?"

Mikey's shrug was epically indifferent. "It just does." That seemed to be all he was willing to say on the matter; he was peering down at his com set, scrolling through what looked like a newsfeed, which reminded Frank.

"Hey, what was that all about, anyway? Back there," he added when Mikey blinked at him overtop of his screen.

"Oh." Mikey frowned. "Protest, I guess. Didn't think we needed to be there right then."

"Yeah, I get that part, but what was it _about_?" Frank pressed – he could feel that Mikey knew more than he was saying, but then he _always_ felt that with Mikey. He was so fucking self-contained, even his surface thoughts unhurried and tucked neatly away.

"There's nothing in the news," was all Mikey said, shrugging when Frank made an _and?_ gesture. "Later, Frankie." He nodded seriously, turning about in place before setting off toward the main house.

"What the fuck," Frank said again, staring after him, but after a few seconds he shook himself; it was getting dark already, and his stomach was reminding him he was hungry. Dinner first; questions later.

* * *

This close to winter's arrival, the night air was damp and chilly. Frank leaned against one of the verandah pillars out back of the residence wing, watching the fog of his breath join the mist creeping up from the ground. If he was helping it along with an extremely surreptitious smoke, well, it was late enough that no one was around to care that he wouldn't be eighteen until Tuesday. Too late, really, since he had to drag himself out of bed and into the office in only a few hours, but Frank had spent most of the evening and night neglecting the stupid report he was supposed to be writing in favor of scouring the network for news about that protest. As far as the newsfeeds were concerned, it might as well not have happened; the only maybe-relevant item Frank had found was a breathless article about some new agreement that had been signed today, something to do with Sato Industries and Clan Morrison. Which, okay, explained Grant Morrison, but not much else.

Somewhere in the distance, a shuttlecar drive faded into hearing, briefly obscuring the night sounds of batbirds and suckers before it shut abruptly off. Frank sucked another slow drag off his cig, toeing at the edge of the verandah, and thought about going inside. His brain was starting to feel like it was finally winding down enough to sleep, and he was pretty sure it would only take one orgasm to knock him all the way out. He was starting to sort through his stock fantasies in preparation when the creak of a step, too close and out of the blue, startled him into whirling.

"What the –" He hadn't felt anything (but, a little voice that was entirely his own reminded him, he hadn't exactly been paying attention), but there was, of all fucking people, Gerard, half-poised on the steps leading up from the gardens, wide-eyed and startled.

"What – Frank? What are you –?"

"Uh." Belatedly remembering the illicit cigarette, Frank tried to subtly move his hand into the shadow of the pillar, but of fucking course Gerard's eyes zeroed in on the motion.

"Oh." Gerard flicked a curious glance up at Frank's face, then went back to staring at the cigarette. "I didn't know you smoked."

"So what if I do?" Frank demanded, and okay, maybe that had been a bit defensive, because Gerard glanced up again, startled. Frank could feel him remembering, loud and obvious, that oh right, Frank was underage.

"Oh. No, I mean –" Gerard waved an entirely un-illustrative hand. "Fuck, whatever. Uh, can I have one?"

"Uh." Frank blanked for a second, then shook his head clear. "Yeah, whatever." He fumbled through his pocket for his pack, holding it out. It seemed to take Gerard a second to realize he'd actually have to move from the steps, and then to actually walk over, treading slow and careful across the creaky boards. Frank's eyes snagged on the way he carried himself, wondering whether he was high again. It was hard to tell; Gerard's shields weren't as tight and solid as he'd kept them that afternoon, but he wasn't obviously wasted off his face, either.

"Thanks." Gerard kept his eyes on the cigarette he slid out of Frank's pack, as though he had to concentrate on pulling off the tab to light it. He shuffled back a step or two, breathing out vapor over the railing where it hung in the bluish moonlight. "You know, these used to give you cancer."

Frank blinked. "So?"

"Well, not _these_ , these," Gerard rambled on like Frank hadn't even spoken. "The way they used to make them, like, before Expansion, they were really bad for your lungs and shit."

"Lucky me I live now," Frank muttered, rolling his eyes because it wasn't like he didn't know that. Gerard fell silent, and Frank belatedly realized he'd been broadcasting more than he should, and made an effort to rein it in. "Uh, you been at the Morrison place all this time?"

"Hm?" Gerard glanced aside at him, then shrugged, hunching around his cigarette. He looked drawn and tired, Frank thought, maybe the lingering aftereffects of whatever bender he'd been on Friday night. He'd scraped up his jacket somewhere, too, a rash of scratches scored into the leather down his left arm that Frank didn't recall seeing before. He was still ridiculously fucking pretty.

"Huh." Sticking his cigarette firmly between his lips, Frank shouldered Gerard aside enough that he could lever and scramble up to sit on the verandah railing, feet dangling. "Hey, did you catch what all that was about this evening?"

"Huh?" Gerard blinked up at him, and Frank deliberately relaxed his own shields a little, letting himself feel Gerard's confusion. "What? Wait, did something happen?"

"Out by the Capitol," _you know, when you ran off to fawn over Grant fucking Morrison_ , Frank added in the most private part of his mind, "there was some kind of protest? Shouting and signs and stuff, the Peace Keepers were just turning up when Mikey, uh, got us out of there."

"Oh." Gerard frowned, looking down at the slowly glowing end of his cigarette. He wasn't surprised, Frank realized; if anything, his surface thoughts had a grim gray tinge under the skin of his shields.

"What?" he prodded, and Gerard shook his head, taking a drag. "You know something," Frank insisted, _pushing_ to try and see it, and Gerard sighed, shaking his head and exhaling a great cloud of vapor.

"It's not – it's been in the news and stuff, you know? Just not... right out there, I guess. Morrison – I mean, it was the Head, not Grant, but he's still part of it. They kind of merged with the Satos, a while back. Technically there's, like, an umbrella company, since they're Families and all and they don't wanna do what Mom and Dad did, but yeah."

"Oh." Frank furrowed his brows, kicking his feet and staring out at the gardens. A batbird chirped somewhere close by, and was echoed by another, further off. "So, like..."

"I guess some people are talking about, you know, monopolies and shit? They bought up some smaller companies, too. And, well, they have a whole bunch of influence in the Council, so, yeah." Gerard shrugged, like it didn't even matter to him, but Frank could feel how tight and solid his shields had suddenly become, like there were things he wasn't going to say – things he wasn't even going to think where Frank might hear. He wanted to push, to try and find what Gerard was hiding, what else he knew, but he didn't quite dare.

"So, what, people were protesting that they were – at the Council, or whatever?" he tried, and Gerard shrugged.

"I didn't see it."

"Neither did I," Frank grumbled, sucking the last drag off his cigarette. Sweet, sweet nicotine. "Hey, you still gonna head out to the Epipolis colonies and shit this week?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Gerard frowned down at the ornamental spicebush below the railing. "End of the week, though, I guess? You gotta have plans, right? Your birthday, I mean."

"Hell yeah." Frank grinned up at the hazy moon, kicking his feet up. "Fuck, eighteen – I'm finally gonna get my motherfucking tattoo, man."

"Augh." Gerard cringed away, shaking his head, and Frank laughed, too loud in the night quiet.

"Right, needles. Whatever, it's going to be awesome." Even if he did have to get it safely high on his arm, where his shirt would hide it; not getting yelled at by Dad was worth that much, at least.

"I like the, you know, finished product," Gerard objected, turning to lean sideways on the railing so he could gesture up at Frank. "Especially, like, really original stuff. _Art_ , man, fuck. Everything lately –" he cut himself off hard, visibly clamping his mouth shut, and Frank blinked down at him, confused.

"What?"

"Nothing." Gerard drew in a deep breath, stubbing out his cigarette on the railing even though it hadn't quite smoked down, and pushed off, heading toward the house. "It's late, I gotta – see you tomorrow, Frank," he ended, already disappearing through the door Frank had left propped open. Frank could sense him heading through the residents' wing toward the main House and the Family's quarters, but Gerard's mind was shielded and opaque, as blank as though he wasn't there at all.

* * *

"How much longer?" Gerard's voice had developed a hint of whine around the fifth time he'd asked that; two hours later, Frank was so over having to sit next to the dude that he was honestly contemplating jumping out of the airlock.

"You've got a fucking com," he grumbled in return, shifting gingerly to keep the wall by his seat from pressing on his left arm. The shipsuit meant he couldn't even adjust the bandage or peel it back to admire his new art, which was probably a good thing since it hadn't even scabbed yet. Mikey and Luce, who'd gone down to the shop with him, had made appreciative noises over his monster, but Gerard had shied away when Frank offered to show him, making grossed-out faces.

"Ugh." Gerard pressed his head back against the seat, tilting his face up like he was nauseous even though Frank could feel he was more hungover than space-sick, his head throbbing in time to the rapid cycling vibration of the VL engines that traveled through every surface. The headache was so contagious that Frank's own skull had started pounding half an hour into the trip, which at least distracted him from the sting and itch of his tattoo.

"Dude," Frank couldn't resist pointing out, "this was your idea."

"Shut up," Gerard mumbled back, shifting restlessly. "I hate space travel."

"No you don't." It was getting easier to read Gerard, and that was a lie. "You just don't like passenger ships." Frank couldn't blame him, either; he was doing his best to ignore the hundred-odd other people crammed into the rows of uncomfortable seats in the passenger cabin. Trapped in a crowded, shielded, windowless room, rocketing down the Lanes with no control over their direction or velocity... Even a berth on a fucking freighter would have been better. "Just go to sleep or something."

" _You_ try going to sleep," Gerard started indignantly, but a chime from the ship's PA system brought him up short.

" _For the information of our passengers, we will shortly be approaching our destination, Melissa Station. Please stand by as we drop out of VL mode._ "

"Fucking finally," Gerard grumbled; Frank just rolled his eyes, bracing himself on the seat arms even though logically he knew he wouldn't actually feel the deceleration, just the shudder – there it was, ugh – as the drive mode switched over to in-system. At least on the way back they'd be able to catch a ride on a Way courier ship; with luck it'd be both faster and more comfortable than this leg.

Disembarking seemed to take forever. Frank chafed as they shuffled out the airlock in line, and chafed as they shuffled up the docking tunnel in line, and chafed some more while they waited in yet another line to show their ID and ticket stubs to a bored-looking woman in Council gray. In contrast, Gerard seemed asleep on his feet, going where Frank prodded him without complaint or much actual thought. It was only when they were on the transit pod, headed for the hotel, that he sat up and started paying attention to the station outside the viewport.

"Have you been here before? You were a pilot, right?"

"Huh?" Frank looked up from his com – Jamia had sent him a pic of a gangly brindle puppy flopped out and panting in the reddish dirt, which was both fucking adorable and slightly confusing, because she was on a Station placement, wasn't she? Maybe she had a leave or something? "Oh – yeah, but mostly between, like, Zanzibar and Otto. This is a new Station, right?"

"Uh-huh." Gerard was still plastered to the window, staring out at the uniform white permacrete buildings and little strips of grass and trees as they passed. Frank had to pull him aside to get a proper look, but it wasn't like he hadn't seen Stations before; the curve of the hull rolling out and up was familiar and reassuring. The streets, though, and the buildings – there was something off about them, like they were too neat and clean or something, too empty. Frank frowned, nudging Gerard a little further aside to try and get a better look, but in the process he managed to scrape his bicep against the strap of Gerard's bag that he was still clutching, and ended up wincing away.

"Motherfuck."

"What – oh." Gerard flinched back too, one eye on Frank's arm like it was going to suddenly attack him with killer zombie needles or something. Frank snorted at the thought, and Gerard clearly caught it, because he made a face, settling back into his seat. "Shut up."

"Did I say anything?" Frank bounced back, smirking, and Gerard huffed, giving him a little mental _shove_.

_You didn't need to, asshole._ "I think this is it," he added out loud, craning his neck toward the window again as the pod started to slow and detached from the train. "Fuck, I want a fucking bed. And room service."

"Whatever." Frank punched the door open and clambered out, shouldering his backpack. "I want a _shower_." Five hours in a tin can full of people and he felt like every single one of them had left their stink on him; he should clean his arm again, too. "First meeting's tomorrow, right?"

"Right," Gerard agreed, fumbling in the pocket of his shipsuit and extracting a pair of sunglasses that he immediately pushed up onto his head. "They'll probably want to give us the tour or something, too."

Fuck. "Great," Frank muttered, striding out for the hotel doors. More sweating in a passenger transport; just what he needed.

* * *

"Well." Frank jumped when Ms Hashimoto clapped her hands, and hastily refocused his eyes on his com screen and the meeting record he was supposed to be monitoring. "I think that satisfies all the formal requirements," she continued smoothly, turning her smiling professional mask on Gerard. "Don't you, Mr Way?"

"Yeah," Gerard glanced to Frank like he was waiting for something; Frank stared blankly back, because hell if he was going to actually admit in front of everyone that he'd totally zoned out on all their business talk, but... "I think the only thing that's left is to confirm our go-live date, right Frank?" _You okay?_ he whispered on an unintrusive thread of thought; Frank sent back an image of himself, glazed over and drooling.

_What do you need?_ "Ah, that's right." Frank hastily scrolled back through the recording, skimming the auto-logged paragraphs. "We went over the schedule fairly thoroughly, but –"

"Right, yes, we should set a date." Ms Murphy, who Frank thought was the Heir of one of the smaller Families in the collective, flicked an unsubtle glance at the guy across the table from her before turning attentively to Ms Hashimoto. "I think sooner rather than later, don't you, ma'am?"

_What's my schedule?_ Gerard asked, prodding gently; Frank flipped it up onto the com screen without comment, sliding it over. _I don't think we can get the ships in place for a week or two, unless..._ He fell silent, withdrawing into his own mind, and Frank gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to press him to continue.

"Well, we're only five days into this cycle." Ms Hashimoto's smile was plastic and meaningless; every time Frank looked at her he had to stomp on the urge to look past her placid surface thoughts just to see if there was actually anything else in her head. She must be thinking _something_ behind there; she'd been Head of her Family at least since the Collective had formed out here. "I'm sure getting off the ground quickly will be best for us all, so I think, if I'm not mistaken," she glanced around at the other Collective reps, Heirs of the minor Families and managers from the Station and the production departments, "we can be ready to go as soon as you are, so – shall we say, commencement on Monday?"

"This coming Monday?" Gerard blinked, clearly taken aback, and Frank caught the tail end of his thought, _whoa_. Across the table, the Station manager's eye was twitching, his gaze sliding back and forth between Ms Hashimoto and one of the other Family underlings, almost like he was afraid to look at Gerard.

_Something's up with them_ , Frank told Gerard, turning his eyes carefully down to the schedules Gerard was scrolling through on his com screen. They might not be telepaths, but he couldn't take any chances; he reached out, slow and careful, shutting out the hum of stifled emotion that pervaded the room and zeroing in on the tell-tale twitch of surface thought betrayed by that crack in the mask. The Station controller was all too easy to read, stress flattening his thought patterns into urgent and frustrated circles.

_Shit._ Frank pulled back into his own head, reaching for a closer link with Gerard without really thinking. _Their last supply shipment got diverted or something, dude; it never arrived. The Heads have been trying to cover it up, I think, but they're gonna start running out of shit pretty fucking soon..._

_Got it._ "I'll have to put a couple of calls in to headquarters," Gerard spoke up smoothly as one of the Heirs opened his mouth to break the silence, "but I can certainly see what we can do. In the, uh, mean time, I think... the fifteenth?" He looked to Frank, who blinked, startled.

"Um." He took the com back, squinting at the Way Shipping itinerary list Gerard had pulled up. "Yeah, I think that works." _What the hell?_ The Heads were going to kill Gerard for pushing the timescales up this far, Frank was sure.

_I don't care, and they won't mind, anyway._ "I'll confirm in writing as soon as I've heard back from the Head," Gerard said smoothly, pushing himself to his feet and extending his hand across the table to Ms Hashimoto. She didn't look entirely happy, Frank thought, but not _un_ happy either, just... tightly controlled. It was a tighter turnaround than they'd originally planned – and fuck, Frank realized, swallowing a groan; they were going to have to redo the entire goddamn schedule. Or _he_ was, anyway; Gerard hadn't exactly had much input even the first time around.

_Hey_ , Gerard protested in his head, but it felt kind of shifty. Frank shot him a narrow side-eye in between shaking hands with everyone again, and carefully locked his shields tighter around his innermost thoughts. He'd forgotten what it was like to link this way. Most of his friends back at Zanzibar and – well, scattered around the Seven Systems now, on placements and work contracts, but for whatever reason he seemed to know way more telekinetics and clairvoyants and electrokinetics than telepaths. Even with Jamia, Frank had been convinced she was secretly an empath or something because she could read him like a fucking book, but officially she was a Factor 4 electrokinetic.

In the shuttlecar on the way to their next stop, Gerard sat with his back to Frank the whole way, one leg sprawled up across the seat as he talked in low, urgent tones into his com. Frank tried to tune him out, staring out the window at the low buildings they passed, geodesic domes of black heating panels and the reflective coatings of window screens like holes into the deep blue sky. They got smaller toward the edge of the settlement area, family homes with children playing in yards and chains of tiny single-occupant bubbles winding alongside the street until they petered out entirely and the roadway started to lift up to skim over the top of the forest.

"—can only benefit us, right?" Gerard's voice rose, too, and Frank glanced back, noting the tension of his back as he hunched over the com screen, free hand gesticulating urgently. "Shit, the goodwill alone's gotta be worth buying in outside resources, never mind it's the right thing to do."

"Uh-huh." That was Donna Way's voice, tinny and thoughtful. "Let me talk to your Dad, hon, and Lauren. I do agree with you; it's just awful short notice."

"Yeah." Gerard relaxed fractionally, toe tapping at the air. "I said I'd come back to them in writing, unless you wanna message Ms Hashimoto yourself? We gotta go tour the mines and shit right now."

"Well, we'll message you, then. Have fun, honey, and don't give poor Frankie too much trouble."

"Mom," Gerard complained in a near-whine, like he was thirteen again and not – fuck, twenty-two, that was weird. Frank snorted a giggle as they closed the connection, and Gerard huffed.

_I'm not_ that _bad,_ he protested indignantly, which just made Frank roll his eyes.

_Dragging your wasted ass out of sketchy dives isn't actually in my job description_ , he thought pointedly, simultaneously satisfied and irritated with himself when Gerard flinched back, all but completely disengaging.

"It's not like I'm gonna –" he started, but whatever he might have said was lost as the shuttlecar slowed and dropped, circling down to land. Frank twisted to peer out of the window, taking in the low range of buildings, set back against the cliff where a terrace had been carved out of the steep hillside like a giant's bite.

"I think this is it," he said, stupidly, and Gerard snorted, pushing past him to open the door and climb out. Frank scrambled after, clamping a lid down on his irritation, and immediately wished he was wearing something more substantial than his stupid uncomfortable business coat. Fuck, no wonder everything here seemed to be built out of heat collectors; he could feel the sunlight on his head, but it was like there was no warmth to it, even the light thin and sparse.

"Mr Way!" A woman came hurrying out of a building that looked just like all the others, smiling with a flash of teeth and offering her hand for Gerard to shake. "It's Gerard, right? I'm Telo Kiric; you probably don't remember me, but we were assigned together on Athena Station, a few years back."

"I do remember." Gerard's smile as he shook her hand enthusiastically was quirky and lopsided and real. "You were in Personnel, right? How have you been?"

"Oh, fine." The way she beamed up at Gerard made Frank want to roll his eyes. "My family have a connection to the Collective, so when there was an opening here..." She spread her hands. "It's worked out nicely; I made supervisor last year."

"That's great." Gerard pushed a hand through his hair, turning to Frank. "Oh, this is Frank Iero; he's my assistant right now."

_Thanks_ , Frank grumbled very quietly inside his own head, nodding and stretching his face into a smile when Telo turned to beam at him. She was pretty, sure, with her hair braided tightly around her head like a halo and a dark gray shipsuit that clung in all the right places, but Gerard didn't need to act so fucking... ugh. Being forced to tag along while Gerard blew off work to flirt with some hot chick was just what Frank needed.

"Well, you're here for the tour, right?" Telo jerked her head in the direction of the building behind her, indistinguishable from all the others. "C'mon, let's get you kitted out, and we'll get started."

'Kitted out' turned out to mean clear flexiplas helmets, and flimsy, slick coveralls that were more, Telo explained, to protect their clothes than for hygiene. Frank was sure he looked completely fucking ridiculous, but it was something of a comfort to not be the only one; Gerard's hair was plastered against his skull by the headgear, and his hand kept drifting up to poke at it like he'd forgotten it was there as they shuffled down the access tunnel in Telo's wake.

Gerard was in front, so Frank walked right into his back when he stopped dead underneath the archway, and had to clutch at him to keep them both upright.

_Motherfucker_ , he complained, but Gerard didn't even seem to notice. Frank followed his gaze, and felt his own face go slack, because... _Whoa_. The narrow, low-roofed tunnel that had made the back of his neck itch opened out into a broad and hugely tall space, jagged uneven rocks reaching up and up until they were lost in the hazy blur of light that glittered amber-gold off every surface. Cracks and rough-hewn arches led off in every direction, some cut through the solid rock and others angular with crystals and seamed through with the rich gold of what had to be the rock honey.

"Wow," Gerard murmured, and Frank nodded slow agreement, staring around. Over at the other side of the cavern there was an organized bustle of drones and people in gray suits moving back and forth between several of the openings, directing laden floats into the queue trundling toward the processors. _This is amazing, Frankie, fucking look at it._

"We call this the Cathedral," Telo informed them like a holo narrator. "It's actually natural, although it's been widened out and extended some."

"Is the light natural too?" Gerard wanted to know, still staring around. Frank could feel his _own_ fingers twitching with how badly Gerard wanted to draw this; he swallowed, pushing gently back into the link.

_Work, remember?_ he sent. _I bet they'll let us take captures, though._

_Yeah._ Gerard's mental tone was quiet, and there was a burst of sadness and resignation that colored the words until he cut it off, withdrawing. Frank frowned, nodding vaguely at Telo's explanation about crystal conductors and light shafts, and choked back on the urge to probe.

"If you come this way," Telo gestured, setting off across the gravel, "we can have a look at the front end. Most of our production at the moment is located in galleries Three and Four; they're the most stable, following the major line of the seam down both sides."

"...I see," Frank said, limply, when Gerard kept his mouth shut. Fuck, he thought all of a sudden, stomach twisting, what was he even doing here? Down a hole on an out-System planet, pretending he gave a shit about any of this.

"Be careful, the roof gets low in places," Telo informed them, motioning them forward into what looked more like a crack in the rock than anything human-made. Frank eyed it warily, but when he inched his way inside it actually did open out pretty quickly, and it wasn't as dark as it had seemed, the light filtering down between the tall rock spires just dimmer, bluish. It was like being underwater, Frank thought, and the sharp crystal angles and wavery translucence of the rock honey that clung to the stone, the distant and blurry echoes of voices and machinery that filtered through, made it feel more like being in a holo game than anything that should exist in real life.

_Creepy_ , Gerard commented in his head, and Frank couldn't tell whether or not he'd caught that, but after a second Gerard offered an image, washed-out and watercolor, of the same columns they were walking through, twisting and morphing into monstrous shapes.

_Thanks, that makes me feel so much fucking better,_ Frank snarked back. Gerard's answering giggle wasn't nearly as high-pitched and stupid inside their heads, which was weirdly disappointing until Telo started explaining about the vectored blasting that the advance mining teams used to hollow out the tunnels without shattering the honey seams.

After, when they'd ridden the elevator back up the main shaft and finally been allowed to peel off the protective suits, Telo led them into another one of the indistinguishable plant buildings where what seemed like every employee in the entire fucking Collective wanted to line up to shake Gerard's hand. Frank zoned out after the first five team leaders and supervisors, hanging back and fighting not to yawn through all the deathly-dull small talk. The identical gray shipsuits didn't make it any easier to tell them all apart; that was kind of weird, Frank decided vaguely – weren't there, like, dozens of Families and firms in the Collective?

Even trying to think about it, though, was boring. There was a heavy sort of feeling sitting in the pit of Frank's stomach, a nasty voice in the back of his mind pointing out that this was going to be his life, someday. It was like he could see it stretching out in front of him, a gray parade of meetings and tours and paperwork, handshake after handshake and this fucking fake smile on his face burning down to the bone until he forgot he'd ever known how to feel anything else. His life narrowing to an office in the Iero house, watching the ships going up without him, tied to a desk and the planet and expected to produce a kid of his own to dump the whole shitload onto... Fuck.

_Yeah._ Gerard's voice in the back of his mind startled Frank enough that he jumped, and had to fumble for his com to cover, flipping out his messages with fingers that ached from clenching them. He hadn't realized he'd been broadcasting, shit.

_You weren't,_ Gerard reassured him quietly, and there was something... like an echo of Frank's own feelings, or a reflection in a distorted mirror, older and ground-down and resigned. _Come on, let's get the hell out of here already_ , Gerard said before Frank could push further, a blank plastic mask of a smile on his face and polite, utterly meaningless words spilling out of his mouth. _We've all got better things to do with our fucking lives_.

* * *

 _Shouldn't you be working?_ Jamia's message read, tiny and pointed in the corner of his screen. Frank made a face, glancing surreptitiously down the table, but Gerard and Ms Hashimoto and the rest of the Collective representatives were still focused on the tablets laid out with the contracts and schedules, arguing back and forth about the same last-minute amendment they'd been discussing for fifteen minutes now. Gerard looked kind of harried around the edges, tight and desperate at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

_assholes too busy being assholes,_ he typed out quickly, stabbing at the Send key. He could feel Gerard's headache from here, still, even through both their shields; he'd practically had to beat the hotel door down to get the fucker up this morning. If it had started out as a hangover – and Frank had his suspicions – then it had long since mutated into a slow, dull throb of tension at the back of his skull that was making Frank want to punch everyone in the room in the fucking face.

_Shut the fuck up,_ Gerard grumbled in his head, which just made the sympathy headache worse. Frank imagined planting his palm in the middle of his stupid pointy face and pushing him back, and Gerard sent back a wave of indignation but backed off, taking most of the headache with him.

_Make them get on with it,_ Frank told him, and got a mental sigh in return.

_I think this Cheng guy just wants to make extra sure everyone knows he exists_ , Gerard commented. _Who the hell even is he?_

_Sucks to be you,_ Frank thought back, popping up a new capsule. _I'm messaging Mikey, I'll tell him you're being smothered by self-important assholes._

_My fuckin' hero_ , Gerard snarked back, and Frank ducked his head to cover a grin, remembering games of heroes-and-villains and claiming the role of Gerard's sidekick. They were rusty memories, and he found himself flinching automatically away from them, but while the edges were still rough, they hurt less than Frank expected.

A reply popped up on his screen, and Frank snorted to himself. _Mikey says cry him a river_ , he told Gerard.

_Tell Mikey to –_ Gerard's thought cut out abruptly as one of the Collective people asked him a question; Frank glanced up from his screen, his eyes flicking across faces as he let his shields open a little way, testing the mood. Ms Hashimoto was still impossible to read, but some of the other Family Heads were definitely looking impatient now.

_Doesn't look like it'll be too much longer_ , he commented, popping up a message capsule and doing his best to look industrious and busy as he typed. _Want an interruption?_

_Yes_ , Gerard grumbled in his head, so Frank dimmed his screen, pushed his chair back, and padded down the long table to push his way into the cluster at the other end.

"Excuse me, Mr Way?" Everyone turned to look at him. Frank did his best to ignore the curious and impatient and actively contemptuous stares, and bent to whisper in Gerard's ear. "The Head requests you call her at your earliest opportunity."

"Thanks, Frank." Gerard shifted, fishing his com out of his pocket, and made a show of making a note. _Did she really?_

_Nah. She did message me this morning to make sure you were presentable, though,_ Frank needled, grinning outright at the predictable flood of indignation he got in return. Maybe it was a good thing that he'd never have to work with his mom, since the divorce; he could so see her doing something like that.

_I'm totally – oh, here we go._ Gerard fell silent again as the tablets were passed around for signing, but Frank could still feel the circling rhythms of his mind working at the other end of the link. He tried to keep at least some of his own impatience contained, stabbing out another stupid message to Hambone, then a third when that one went unanswered too. Fuck, what was with everyone he knew having more important shit to do than talk to him?

His com shivered in his hands, a new message popping up in his queue. Jamia; Frank pounced, opening it, then flinched and hastily froze the screen as a vid capsule popped up. He'd turned the audio off, but anyone could look over here... but if he turned a little more, he decided, surreptitiously eyeing the meeting at the other end of the room, he could shield the screen with his body. And, fuck, as boring as this morning had been? It was a risk worth taking.

_Are you goofing off again?_ Gerard demanded in Frank's head, second time through the vid.

_Dude,_ Frank sent back, _this dog is trying to make friends with a rock limpet. It's hilarious._

_You're watching dog vids while I'm suffering,_ Gerard accused, and Frank snorted out loud, hastily turning it into a cough.

_Suffering, right._ From where he was sitting, Gerard was the center of attention, which ought to suit him, Frank thought.

_I have to be on the_ holo _,_ Gerard grumbled – whined, really. Frank rolled his eyes, flipping off his com and tucking it back into his pocket. _I'm gonna look stupid and everyone'll laugh._

_Dude, you've been on the holo before_ , Frank pointed out, keeping an ear on the conversation down at the end of the table, which mostly seemed to consist of enthusiastic handshakes and people slapping Gerard on the shoulder and congratulating each other. It seemed like a lot of fuss when the first shipment hadn't even got off the ground, really.

_That was ages ago. Shit, this fucking suit itches._ Gerard went silent for a moment as the co-ordinator or whoever he was ushered the holo crew through the doors and started setting up screens. _Is my hair weird?_ he asked Frank, and Frank had to have another coughing fit because the anxious resignation was coming off Gerard in waves, thick enough that everyone in the room should be able to tell he hated this. His hand kept sneaking up to alternately tug at his hair and smooth it behind his ear.

_Your hair is always weird_ , Frank sent back, amused and not bothering to hide it. _You look fine, dude, stop freaking out already._ Actually, he thought, carefully private behind a solid layer of shield, Gerard looked _good_ ; whatever the hell he'd done last night, he'd clearly showered this morning, and without the grease his hair was falling around his face rather than sticking crazily up everywhere, brushing the top of his collar when he turned his head. The suit might be itchy but it was clearly expensive, cut tight to skim rather than conceal, and the black made Gerard's skin look deathly pale, but in a _good_ way. He looked hot; it was a thought Frank wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to be having, even in an abstract appreciating-the-view way, so he shoved it back into the depths of his mind.

_Easy for you to say_ , Gerard muttered darkly, his hand drifting up to pull at his hair again until Frank _sent_ an image of that across. _Fuck._ He stuck both hands behind his back, shuffling a little closer to Ms Hashimoto and lifting his chin determinedly when the holo crew motioned at them to arrange themselves. _Can't they just get on with it?_

_Fucking smile, for shit's sake,_ Frank ordered, eyeing the shot critically. Gerard still looked like he'd rather be anywhere else as he posed for the recorders, but his shoulders weren't quite up around his ears any more, and when Ms Hashimoto spoke into his ear, he turned toward her without any prompting, nodding earnestly. It'd have to do, Frank decided, then had to laugh at himself; like he had a say.

It seemed to take fully one million years to finish up the holos, but Frank's com said it was only forty minutes; the clock was just ticking over to noon as they left the administrative building, and Gerard sighed – quietly – when they reached the bottom of the steps.

"That's over," he commented, quietly; Frank nodded.

"Uh-huh. When are we shipping back out?" The hotel wasn't even far enough to hop a transit pod, just the other side of the tiny shopping plaza. This was something he hadn't missed about Station life, the sense of everything crammed in together, crushed down and jostling for space. _We got time to grab some fucking food?_ he asked, knowing the answer; they had three hours until they needed to be at the spaceport. "There's a root roast sandwich calling my name, man."

"Gross." Gerard wrinkled up his nose, but changed course easily enough, heading for a sign advertising takeout food. Even though Frank's stomach was totally growling loud enough to be mistaken for a star freighter, it must not be lunch shift yet; they were almost the only people on the street, aside from a handful of parents with cradle drones trailing in their wake, and two Peace Keepers hanging out at the intersection in solid uniform white. Well, more standing stiffly around than hanging out, and that was kind of weird when Frank actually thought about it; he'd seen a few of them making themselves obvious in the rougher areas of Zanzibar Station, and other places trouble might start, but a nearly-empty street in the middle of the day? It wasn't even all that remote out here, these days; the Epipolis system might not be part of the Seven, but it was well established all the same, and there was no danger of the battery worlds losing their taste for rock honey anytime soon.

"PKs," Frank commented as they approached, more observing than anything, but Gerard just nodded, tight and minimal, and walked right past the door of the takeout place like he hadn't even seen it. "Hey!" Frank protested, but swallowed the rest when Gerard shook his head.

"There's a restaurant at the hotel, I'll buy you a dozen fucking sandwiches, okay?" he muttered, and Frank huffed, stretching his legs out to keep up and almost tripping over his own feet when Gerard slammed his shields up so hard that the lost thread of connection snapped back on him like a mental elastic band. It stung like one, too; Frank opened his mouth to ask, then closed it again when Gerard turned to look at him, widening then narrowing his eyes. What the fuck? Frank thought, automatically checking his own shields while wondering if Gerard had finally lost it for real.

The Peace Keepers didn't even seem to notice as they went by, which wasn't anything all that out of the ordinary. What Frank didn't see until they passed, though, was that there was a third white jacket beyond them, clearly a woman despite the boxy, shapeless uniform and the smooth white full-face mask that swallowed her entire head. She didn't move, but Frank was suddenly pricklingly sure that she was watching them anyway, the sensation of eyes on his back speeding his steps across the street and down the boulevard toward the hotel. It was an effort not to turn and stare back; only the knowledge that there was stupid and then there was _stupid_ kept him from it.

Gerard didn't relax even when the doors slid aside to let them into the hotel lobby. Frank reached out, but Gerard was just beaming waves of invisible _no_ at him, his mind locked tight. He didn't seem startled that Frank followed him into the elevator and up to their floor, but when Frank marched right on past the door of his own room, tailing Gerard down the hall to his door, the silent walls cracked enough that Gerard darted him a nervous look before waving his ID over the lock and shuffling inside.

"What the fuck, man," Frank observed the moment the door slid shut behind them, the panel pulsing red as the lock engaged. Gerard huffed a breath, sagging a little, and wandered over to the window, staring out at the neat grid of roads and homes and park divisions for a second before turning and wedging his ass comfortably against the sill.

"They're recruiting telepaths. That's what the mask means."

"They – what, the Peace Keepers?" Frank blinked. That... put some context to that itchy feeling he'd had, of being watched. Shit. "That – uh, that seems kinda..."

"Yeah." Gerard fiddled with the buttons of his jacket, tugging at the collar like it was choking him.

"Fuck." Frank looked around for a second before shrugging and kneeing up onto the bed, toeing off the too-loose work shoes that he still hadn't grown into and settling into a comfortable sprawl. "Are they, like, _looking_ for stuff to arrest people for and shit? Or is it meant to be, like, some kind of threat? Like, 'stay out of trouble or we'll _know_ , motherfuckers'?"

"Fuck. Probably." Gerard was staring at one of the shitty abstract paintings on the wall like he was actually interested in it; outlined against the light, he was mostly shadows, but Frank still thought he could see a hint of flush along the tops of his cheekbones. Huh.

"What's with the masks, then?" he asked, wiggling until his stupid work slacks stopped digging into his ass. This bed was totally better than the one in his room, firmer or something. "That was seriously creepy, like, all she'd have needed was some blood splatter and we'd have been in the middle of a fuckin' horror or something."

"Ha." Gerard grinned at that, but there wasn't much humor in it. Frank could feel the whirl of his thoughts, quick and grim-tinged, but he couldn't quite bring himself to actually make contact. "I don't know, though – I kind of get the impression," and Frank narrowed his eyes, because he could _feel_ how much Gerard wasn't actually saying there, "that the, you know, the faceless thing? I think that's the point."

"That's creepy too," Frank muttered. Gerard just shrugged one shoulder, staring at his feet. Either they'd fallen into linkage without meaning to, or both their shields were fucked, because Frank could clearly feel, if only for a fading moment, the way Gerard was craving something to shut off his mind, soften all the jagged edges. It left an ache in his own chest, too familiar; Frank swallowed, scooting toward the edge of the bed.

"Okay, fuck this shit." Gerard's eyes got comically wide as Frank unbuttoned his formal jacket, tugging his shirt down from where it had ridden up underneath. "Come on, dude," Frank declared, heading determinedly for the door and _tugging_ at Gerard's sleeve until he stumbled to follow. "You owe me a motherfucking sandwich."

* * *

Climbing onboard the _Fast Times_ was like a breath of fresh air, even if the actual air they were breathing was recycled and stale. The navigator – her name was Christa, Frank learned – actually hugged Gerard, which made him flail hilariously. Apparently they'd been at the Center together for a while, though Frank didn't really remember her. She was an electrokinetic, apparently, because the back of the cockpit wall folded out into seats at the wave of her hand.

The pilot – a dark-skinned guy with epic dreds whose name Frank missed because he was too busy ogling the control terminals – just waved a hand in silent acknowledgment while they all buckled themselves in. Gerard had his shields firmly up, but Frank thought he was less tense than he'd been on the trip out. He was less annoying, anyway, just settling himself quietly into the restraints, so Frank did the same, his eyes flicking between whatever Christa was doing with the nav terminal and the wide, angled viewscreen that wrapped around the cockpit. He'd never ridden on anything this small, and the shiny slickness of the bulkheads and panels suggested that this ship – one of the newest Tolley light courier models – was going to live up to its name.

"Ready for launch," Christa announced, staring at her terminal screen with her fingers spread over the input panels. "Dane?"

"Confirmed," the pilot – Dane, right – said, stabbing at a control. "Control, this is the _Fast Times_ requesting permission to launch from Station dock."

" _Confirmed for launch pathway,_ " the com crackled back, and Frank felt the shudder of the airlock tunnel disengaging, then the soft shift from Station gravity to their own axis as the ship started to pull away. He closed his eyes, stretching out his senses to find the edges of the ship, the cold brush of space beyond, the soft puffs of directional jets reorienting them onto a new alignment as the hum of the engine started to vibrate up through the soles of his feet.

The mental background noise of the Station faded fast once the ship had pushed out of orbit; Frank reached out further, automatically feeling for traffic as they headed for the holographic glitter field marking the Lane terminus.

"Three minute queue," Christa muttered; Frank opened his eyes to see Dane stabbing at his terminal, flipping control after control from warning red to amber. The glitter was growing in the viewscreen, and the hum of the engine took on a deeper tone as the VL drive started to cycle up.

He only realized he was holding his breath when Gerard tugged at his shoulder. _Breathe, Frankie_.

"Shit," Frank exhaled, lungs burning, and shook his head. It was always weird when you weren't the one at the controls; he glanced aside at Gerard, who was staring at him anxiously. "I'm fine, don't –" was all he managed before the ship lurched into acceleration and he had to pull his shields in tight.

A breath, two, and the glitter field brightened to a blinding white. Frank _felt_ the moment they broke the barrier, slipping through the edges of nothing into the space beyond. It was like everything outside the ship turned inside out, or exploded; the viewscreen darkened automatically, but he was still left with glaring afterimages that danced across his vision like the swirling nothing that sucked at his senses past the skin of the ship. _This_ was why psi factors made the best pilots; clairvoyant and kinetic senses were better than even the fastest computer at detecting and correcting drift, and even a fraction of a fraction of a degree off-target could put a ship light-years away from where it should be. Or, worse, on a collision course with something solid and immovable.

When Gerard shifted beside him, the sound of his boot grating against the deck plate echoed around the cockpit, vibrating along Frank's bones in counterpoint to the thrum of the engine. "Frank?" he murmured, voice worried; Frank shook his head, half-wishing he could _show_ Gerard how this felt. But – he could, couldn't he? Slumping back against the bulkhead wall, he relaxed his shields.

_Wanna see?_ he sent, offering a link, and after moment's hesitation – telepathic background noise increased exponentially over light speed – Gerard reached gingerly out to meet him. Frank latched on immediately, meshing their shields, and opened up his senses, letting Gerard _see_ what he could, feel the streaks of nothing streaming past like the ship's skin was his – their – own.

_Oh_ , Gerard whispered in the back of Frank's mind, his astonishment clear. Frank smiled, and let Gerard pull back from the link in his own time. _That's so cool._

_Right?_ Frank couldn't really imagine being without his other senses; it was weird to think of what might have been if he hadn't had all his psi centers opened up hard and early. Would he even have known the difference?

_I would,_ Gerard whispered in his mind, and Frank turned his head, staring, but he was looking straight ahead, eyes fixed on the viewscreen. "Christa, there's – fuck, turn the receiver up."

"Huh?" Frank looked from Gerard to the console where Christa was twisted half around in her chair, staring.

"We're in the Lane..."

"I know, but –" Gerard pressed his lips together, shaking his head as though trying to dislodge something. Frank stared, wondering whether he'd caught too much Lane noise, but Christa obviously found something in his face worth believing, because she turned back to her terminal, toggling switches and pushing the gain up on the com until the cockpit was filled with the thick buzzing static of Lane travel. Frank jerked back, slapping his hands over his ears, but it didn't block out much. Gerard leaned forward, straining against his restraints, his eyes on the viewscreen.

"There," he snapped when there was a momentary break in the static. "Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?!" Christa had to shout over the roar, her hand hovering over the control, but just as she was about to dial it back, there was another break, the buzz abating as a wailing siren stuttered through overtop. Frank bolted upright in his seat, and he could see Christa and even the apparently imperturbable Dane doing the same, because that sound had been drilled into all of them.

"Distress signal!" Gerard shouted, like they hadn't all recognized it immediately. Christa sat forward over her terminal, fingers flying, and Frank felt the whine of the engines drop lower as Dane eased up to what felt like only barely above light.

"I can't tell where it's coming from," Christa reported, frustrated, and Dane shrugged helplessly, never taking his eyes from the screen.

"I gotta drive, man, or we're all gonna end up pancaked."

"Fuck." Gerard twisted awkwardly, staring at Frank. "Can you?"

"What?" Frank shook his head, looking forward to the viewscreen and the white noise rushing past. "Are you fucking joking?"

"Frankie, come on," Gerard reached out, fingers snagging in the arm of Frank's shipsuit. "I can't, but you're good, you know you are." Frank could feel the earnest belief behind each word; they made him snarl.

"Fuck you."He ripped his arm away, glaring at the screen. The distress signal broke through the static again momentarily, and Frank thought he could almost hear a voice behind it, words lost but the desperate tone wrenching at him. "Fuck." Dropping his head back against the rest with a thunk, he screwed his eyes shut and centered himself carefully, starting to open up and reach out. There was so much noise out there that he couldn't hope to distinguish the signal, but maybe if he just stretched far enough...

"There," he gritted out, lurching upright and swallowing back nausea. "They're off-course – fuck, tumbling all over the shop." Shit, his _head_. He brought his hands up to press against his skull where it felt like it was about to fly apart. Gerard made a distressed noise that echoed sharply around the metal edges of the room as Christa cut off the com.

"We've got to–" Gerard started, but she shook her head sharply, staring forward.

"We _can't_. We're not equipped – and the law, we'd all be hauled off –"

"What law?" Gerard demanded; Frank swallowed, squinching his eyes shut against the sharp ache behind them.

"Civilian salvage is illegal," Dane pointed out tonelessly, sighing when Gerard made an outraged noise. "Plus, and I can't speak for you, man, I know you're the Heir and all, but chasing after a runaway ship? That's a hell of a ways beyond my pay grade. And my skill," he added, quietly, just as Gerard opened his mouth to protest.

Frank looked between the set of Dane's jaw, the way he was staring dead ahead, and Gerard's desperate eyes, and it was like his hands moved on autopilot, reaching for the emergency release for his harness. "I can fly it. Come on."

"What?" Gerard grabbed for his sleeve as Frank fought free of the clinging straps. Frank shook his head, carefully because it was still pounding, and pulled away, staggering to his feet and pushing forward until he could wrap his hands around the back of the pilot's chair.

"Give me the helm," he demanded; Dane didn't look up, but Frank could feel his attention, and after a moment he nodded quietly, taking one hand off the controls and starting to shift aside. Frank took a breath, wrapping his hand around the control lever and feeling the whine of the engine shooting straight up his arm. A moment to brace himself, and he threw himself into the chair as Dane slid out the other side, both hands on the controls now as his senses automatically stretched out ahead, grasping for their path.

"Oh my..." Christa's voice sounded very far away, and panicked. "But – what about the law? The Peace Keepers –"

"Fuck the Peace Keepers." That was Gerard; Frank could hear a commotion of movement, someone saying, "I sure hope you know what you're doing," but all his attention was on the roar of the static skimming the skin of the ship, the distortion of the lost ship's wake as clear as any programmed path.

"Boost," he muttered, thumbing the control and feeling the engine step up a gear, then another, kicking them faster and faster. Fuck, this was one hell of a ship; they had to be doing warp seven or eight by now, and he could feel the drive still had more to give. It was a high like no other; he pushed the power up to max, ignoring the warning chime of the terminal and sending them hurtling down the path of his quarry with only his expanding senses to guide him.

"There!" Gerard shouted, doing something to the main screen, and he was right, Frank could see it now. A freighter, he thought, one of the big extraplanetary ones with the cargo pods coiled around its spine like a snake's tail. It was tumbling all over the shop, further off course with every rotation, and Frank gritted his teeth, knowing that much more of that and they were all in very real danger of plowing right into a star. They must not be able to shut off their engines, or maybe they were the kind of idiots who actually thought they could wrestle that beast back onto the Lane; he could feel the distorted backwash flaring as someone tried to correct the bigger ship's trajectory.

"Hail them," he muttered, _nudging_ Gerard mentally – all the attention he dared spare. "Tell them to drop the fuck out already. I'll follow, count me."

_Got it,_ Gerard told him silently, pulling back for an endless moment while Frank fought to stay on the freighter's tail. _Okay, Frankie. On three – two – one..._

Frank slapped a hand over the emergency cutoff to knock out the VL drive, and the world turned inside out again. He'd barely adjusted to being back in real space before he had to yank back on the throttle, gunning the aft thrusters to keep from slamming them right into the giant hulk of the freighter.

"Shit – okay, fuck." Screwing his eyes shut against the migraine spots that were starting to dance in his vision, Frank eased up on the power, dancing the ship alongside the drifting freighter – there was a docking airlock, thank fuck – and matching velocity. When they finally slotted together, with a soft shudder that barely stirred the deck plates, he leaned back into the pilot's chair, breathing shakily. "Fuck."

"Frankie?" That was Gerard. Frank flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder, shying back from mental contact. He was pretty sure he was going to puke at some point, but right now he was just going to stay right here with his eyes shut and try not to think too hard.

"Shit." Gerard's hand disappeared. "Okay, Frankie, you just stay right there. I'm gonna find you a med kit, do we have a med kit?"

"H-here." Christa sounded like she might throw up, too; all their voices were dim and wavery, stretched out like Frank had his ears underwater. Water would be nice; he felt like he did sometimes when he ran a fever, his skin hot and thin-feeling. The pain in his head was hot, too, stabbing and angry; Frank tried to shrink away from it, but his hands were anchored around the controls and he couldn't manage to pry them loose.

"—no, it'll make him worse," Gerard's voice came back, talking to someone else. "Fuck, you'll have to – I can't..."

"Here, I got this," a different voice cut in, and suddenly there were hands on Frank's arm, pulling his elbow up, and a sudden sharp sting followed by spreading coolness. Gerard made a noise like _he_ was going to throw up, now, but it was his hands that settled over Frank's, carefully unwrapping his seized fingers from the control levers. There was a cool tingle spreading through Frank's limbs, shifting back and forth like the tide as it started to wash away the pain, one slow layer at a time.

"Just stay here for a bit, okay?" Gerard's voice murmured in Frank's ear, and Frank couldn't fight it, let the drug pull him under while their voices murmured soft and far above.


	3. though I know how much you hate this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...second half of Part 2.

Frank was fairly sure he was dreaming, because when he opened his eyes Ray, of all people, was lifting him up out of the pilot seat like he was still a little fucking kid.

"Wha—" Frank managed, and Ray startled and almost dropped him.

"Man, I thought you were out of it." He shuffled back, shifting his grip to Frank's arms, and Frank had definitely come down on the side of not actually a dream, because even after the pain shot or sedative or whatever the hell that had been, his entire body was one big fucking ache.

"Shit," he muttered, leaning heavily on Ray. "The fuck're you doin' here?"

"You guys rescued us." Ray's hair bounced emphatically; Frank blinked some of the gumminess away from his eyes, noticing for the first time that Ray's face and shipsuit were smeared with drive graphite and what looked like blood. His voice was squeaky with stress and emphasis. "I totally thought we were goners, man. I can't even believe you did that."

Neither could Frank. His head felt hot and angry, like he'd sprained his brain or something, and he didn't dare reach out even to test his shields. More importantly, though... "Where the fuck did we end up, anyway?" he mumbled, squinting around the cockpit. There was no sign of Gerard or the others, and all he could see in the viewscreen was the massive curve of a cargo pod where it attached to the freighter's hull.

"Actually, we're not, like, all that far off course?" Ray let go of Frank's elbow to make some kind of gesture, but hastily grabbed for him again when Frank wobbled. "Shit, Frank, maybe you should sit back down? Gerard and your guys are over talking to Joe, he's the captain, I guess it's going to take a little while?"

"Right," Frank mumbled, letting Ray maneuver him around and drop him down into a passenger seat. "How'd you guys end up all ass-over-tit, anyway?" Ray, he was pretty sure, was way too good to think he'd actually have a chance in hell of stabilizing a spin like that past light-speed.

"Huh? Oh, it was one of the aft stabilizers." Ray sat down on the edge of the navigator chair, long legs splayed out across the deck. "There was a bad connection, or something blew just after we stepped up, it sent us right off." He shuddered dramatically, and Frank had to agree; losing control in the Lanes was every pilot's nightmare. "I wasn't driving," Ray added, like it was an afterthought. "Man, I hope they sort something out soon, or we'll have Traffic Control crawling all over us, don't you think? Frank?"

"Huh?" Frank blinked his eyes back into focus with an effort, pressing the side of his face into the cool metal of the bulkhead panel. "Oh – yeah, shit. Fuck," he added, eyes widening as he started to realize just how comprehensively screwed they were. Even if they could jump back to lightspeed without flattening themselves around the surface of a stray rock, both ships' computers would automatically ping the control towers once they dropped out again. Never mind Traffic Control; the _Fast Times_ was going to have the fucking Peace Keepers up their asses about illegally dropping out mid-Lane. Shit, it hadn't even crossed his mind while it had all been going down, but that must have been what Dane and Christa had meant. Grimacing, Frank levered himself upright, keeping one hand on the bulkhead for balance as he started shuffling toward the airlock.

"Whoa, wait up." Ray sprang up, catching Frank's elbow just as he had to let go of the wall to insert himself into the airlock. The worst part was that Frank could even argue with being treated like a frail old man, because he fucking felt like one; he leaned on Ray as they stumbled their way across the dock tunnel, and let him lead the way through the unfamiliar corridors of the freighter – the _Sixty-Niner_ , as Ray explained with a high-pitched giggle. Frank snorted, too, because whoever owned this hulk clearly thought they were hilarious.

They turned the corner onto the bridge kind of abruptly – Frank was starting to feel like he was maybe getting some of his strength back, although his head still ached like a motherfucker, so maybe the drug was just wearing off. Gerard looked up abruptly from where he'd been watching Christa and some older guy gesture over a nav display, and his face split with a relieved grin that turned worried so fast Frank's head spun.

"Should you be...?"

"I'm fine, shut up," Frank grumbled, jerking his tattooed arm away when Gerard would have caught hold of it. "What's going on?"

"Oh." Gerard chewed on the side of his lower lip, glancing over at the conference that seemed to be happening by the main screens. "They're just, uh, working out a route I think? Christa was saying something about just going LV and... merging into the Lane?"

"Huh." Ray frowned, all perplexed. "Really?"

"That's what she said," Gerard reported, and Frank held back a snort as the joke, pathetic as it was, sailed right over Ray's curly head. "You should, like, go and talk to them," Gerard added, all wide eyes and artless tone, and Frank blinked, glancing up at Ray and following his gaze across the bridge to Christa. Huh.

"Yeah, you're good at that shit," he contributed helpfully – it wasn't exactly a secret, after all, that he was a seat-of-his-pants navigator; that stuff took way more patience than he could be bothered to cultivate. And math. "Go show them how it's done, dude."

"Fuck you," Ray muttered, but he did finally let go of Frank, victory! Frank was totally subtle about leaning back against the bulkhead as Ray shuffled over to join in the huddle around the terminals.

"Frank," Gerard started, but Frank shook his head.

"Don't even, man. I got this." _Just fucking trust me_ , he didn't say – didn't even think loudly, because he was too bombed to get into it right now. "Hey, so even if we can skip back up into the right trajectory without smearing, the fuck are we gonna do about our timestamps?"

"Huh?" It clearly took an effort for Gerard to pull his attention away from the discussion. "Oh. Don't worry about that, I can fix it."

"You what?" Frank gaped; Gerard shrugged awkwardly, ducking his head like he was embarrassed or something.

"It's not – just, don't worry about it, okay?"

Right. "What, you gonna have your friend Grant get us off the hook?" Frank hazarded, startled when Gerard jerked like he'd been stung, mouth dropping into a silent O. "Uh –" He kind of felt like he ought to apologize, but stubbornness clammed his mouth shut, and after a moment Gerard shut his, tight, and shook his head, turning without a word to head back toward the airlock.

* * *

Frank held his breath for what felt like the entire thirty minutes between dropping out of the Lane and their final clearance for re-entry. The Tower op on the com had asked a whole bunch of questions, but they'd all agreed their story, and whatever Gerard had done to the ship's systems seemed to have been enough, because no one had shot at them or diverted them into orbit or mustered to escort them down. All Frank had seen was Gerard hunched over his com and muttering to himself for ten minutes; he'd done the same on the _Sixty-Niner_ , before crawling under the command terminal and cursing a bunch.

Frank had left him to it, and he had every intention of fucking off as soon as they hit dirtside – let Gerard be an asshole on his own damn time; he was so fucking off duty at this point – but he was swiftly disabused of the idea when the airlock cycled open to reveal a half dozen spaceport guards lined up by the ramp. _Fuck_ , he thought, and almost fell on his face when Dane walked into him from behind.

"What? Why're you – oh."

_Yeah_. Frank gritted his teeth against the persistent ache – his skull still felt alternately too big and too small – and reached for Gerard's attention. _We've got company._

"Which of you is the pilot?" the officer asked, loud to carry over the clamor of the landing zones. Somewhere in the distance, engines were rumbling as one of the big ships wound up to takeoff; it vibrated up through the soles of Frank's boots and along his bones.

"That'd be me, ma'am," Dane drawled, stepping forward and pulling out an ID when the woman gestured sharply. Frank fumbled hastily for his own, feeling like he ought to have his hands up even though no one was actually holding a weapon. All the guards had stunners strapped to their thighs – or, no, those were too bulky, Frank realized with a cold shock; they had to be actual honest-to-god laser pistols. He could _feel_ Gerard stiffen at that, the way he reached out urgently to Frank even as he shuffled down the ramp, bag slung over his shoulder like a fucking tourist.

"Hey, is there a problem?" Gerard shoved his sunglasses up into his hair, squinting bemusedly at the guards. _Do whatever they say_ , he whispered at the back of Frank's mind. Frank had to admit he was reluctantly impressed with the confused concern rolling off Gerard's surface thoughts; he tried to lock himself down too, reaching for the easiest emotion – tiredness – to draw a veil over his mind. But –

_Shh._ Gerard was blithely introducing himself, like he hadn't just handed his ID over, rattling off Dane and Christa's names and job titles, and turning to Frank like he was an afterthought, "oh, and my assistant, Frank Iero. Man, I don't mind telling you, I'm sure glad to be on solid ground again." If he'd been chewing gum, Frank thought, he'd have snapped it. It was surreal.

"Well, Mr Way, I'm afraid you and your employees will need to come with us." The officer sounded slightly more apologetic now, as she motioned them to head over toward the terminal. "Petersen, Kiru, secure the vehicle." Two of the guards peeled off to stand either side of the ramp, and Frank clenched his fingers tight around the strap of his backpack.

_They'll be in there as soon as we're gone, huh?_ he murmured to Gerard, who didn't answer but cut his eyes to Frank.

They were led through a side entrance into a white-walled corridor, and left sitting on uncomfortably solid metal chairs with the rest of the guards watching while the officer went off to – Frank didn't know. He could feel that Christa was nervous, though Dane seemed so unflappably unconcerned that Frank half wondered if he was on something. There was a big monochrome advertising display on the opposite wall, shifting rhythmically between pictures of some doctor's office and a smiling plastic-faced woman promoting a pill that promised to 'help you get back to you.' He was starting to get twitchy himself, his knee wanting to bounce, when Gerard put a hand on his arm.

"Hey, remind me tomorrow I've gotta talk to Lauren about letting Ms Ncube use the conference facilities?" _Keep it on the down-low, Frankie,_ he whispered beneath the words, and Frank winced mentally, strengthening his shields which had – ugh – slipped. _We might have to shield the guys, too. Think you can manage that?_

"Put it in your fucking schedule," Frank grumbled back, but he did shift – carefully, feeling the guards' eyes on him like a weight – to fumble his com out of his pocket and make a note. _Of course I fucking can_ , he returned, ruthlessly crushing the memories that rushed to the surface, Lindsey's terrified-excited face and the sheer panic of sending the guards to sleep. Fuck, he wished he could do that now, but they'd had his ID already and security was a hell of a lot tighter, these days. He could feel Gerard's amusement at the thought, and a quiet sort of sadness that – oh.

_Look alive_ , Gerard nudged him, as a door hissed open somewhere down the hall. Frank sat up a little straighter, trying to telegraph can-we-get-out-of-here-already with every movement and expression, and looked around really obviously as the sound of sharp footsteps echoed up toward them. It was the officer again, with a Peace Keeper in crisp pressed white, and another person behind... _Fuck_ , Frank thought, his eyes widening.

_Fuck,_ Gerard echoed as the white mask became visible. _Frank, do it._

_Got it_ , Frank murmured, as far down beneath his layers of shields as he could, and reached out gingerly to touch first Christa, then Dane, whispering _Shhh_ into their minds as he wrapped them up in a layer of white noise and silence. Like he'd done this before, Gerard slipped in over the top of Frank's work, painting a delicate wash of barely-readable boredom-impatience-concern across the blank canvas Frank had given him.

"Mr Way?" The Peace Keeper was the one to stop at the end of the row of chairs. "If you and your employees could step this way – just a formality..."

"Of course, Officer." Gerard pushed himself lazily upright, strolling after the officials like he was on a leisure trip, and Frank did his best to look long-suffering as he followed.

_Relax,_ he told Dane and Christa, increasing the pressure on the blanket he'd thrown over their minds as the masked telepath stood aside to let them all enter ahead of him. It was a him, Frank thought, but he couldn't spare the energy to try and feel how strong he might be. At this rate he was going to be spending most of tomorrow flat out from overextension; Gerard better not have anything planned.

"Have a seat." The Peace Keeper was clearly running the show; Frank glanced surreptitiously over her uniform, looking for rank symbols, but all she had were a couple of black markings on her shoulders that could have meant anything at all. He was sure the last time he'd actually seen PKs up close like this (there'd been a tiny little fight, barely anything, at a local show back on Zanzibar; Frank hadn't even – officially – been involved) they'd had their ranks and ID numbers splashed right across their jackets. He didn't know what he thought about that, but he buried it down deep anyway, slumping back in his chair and bouncing his foot like he couldn't wait to get out of here. It wasn't exactly hard.

"Mr Way," the PK began, pleasantly enough, "we have some concerns over your deviation from your flightplan today. We understand you reported a fault when you exited the Lanes?"

"Uh-huh." Gerard chewed on one fingernail. "It was a total pain in the ass, we just –" he made a weird swooping motion with his hand – "whoof, outta LV. I thought we'd made it early, it's a new ship and all, runs fast, but these guys," he indicated Dane and Christa, "said nuh-uh. Took for freaking ever to get it fixed up, too." What Frank caught of his surface thoughts was a whirl of irritation and impatience; he only hoped that the telepath – who was standing against the wall by the door, white mask as blank and featureless as his mind – couldn't see through all that background noise to the deeper layers of shields and projections and the link between them like hands gripped tight and clutching.

"What was the nature of the problem?" the Peace Keeper asked, and Gerard shrugged artlessly, turning to Dane.

"Man, you fixed it, right?"

"Yeah, short in the generator linkage." Dane shrugged woodenly, and Frank tried not to wince. He could feel Gerard pressing in over the top of his shield, projecting so subtly that even Frank, part of the linkage they'd established, had trouble distinguishing the technical specs and flashes of images from true thoughts. "Panel C, three-thirty-one B. We could re-route through the backup, but she's gonna need an overhaul before we ship out again."

"I see." So quickly that Frank almost missed it, the PK glanced up and behind them – at the guy in the mask. Whatever she saw didn't seem to make a difference; she looked back to Dane and Christa, flattening her palms on the table. "So it was an internal fault?"

"Yes – I should have caught it on inspection," Christa 'admitted', staring down at her lap. Frank pressed closer into the link as Gerard sprinkled chagrin across her aura. Dude had clearly done this before, and Frank really wanted to know the hows and whys of that, but now was so not the time. Not when he was having to concentrate harder and harder to maintain his shields over all three of them. "We're lucky it was something we could fix."

"Indeed." The Peace Keeper sat back in her chair, frowning at nothing in particular. "The reason I ask is you're not the only accident we've had through today. There couldn't have been any external factor that caused your malfunction?" she pushed. "EMP, micro-debris in the Lane?"

Frank gritted his teeth behind his bored expression, feeling the strange telepath suddenly pressing closer, actively trying to read all four of them as Dane and Christa exchanged a confused look. "I don't see how," Christa answered eventually, as Frank let his shields flex around the probing thoughts of the PK telepath, throwing out white noise and random fragments of thought and memory to disguise the barrier. Whatever factor the guy had, it was lower than Frank's, he realized with relief when the intrusive pressure withdrew. He hadn't been nearly strong enough to break through; now the only question was whether Gerard's blanket of noise had pulled the wool over the PK telepath's mental eyes.

"Well," the Peace Keeper said after another flick of a glance toward the back wall, "I think that's all we need from you, gentlemen, ma'am. Thank you for your time," she nodded, getting up and moving toward the door. "Officer Ulim will show you out."

Frank let himself relax fractionally as the masked telepath followed her out of the door, but Gerard's fingers pressed hard into his side in warning. _Don't let your guard down, we still gotta get out of here_ , he muttered, and Frank set his jaw, pushing his last reserves of mental energy into keeping them all shielded as they made the long walk back down the hallway and out onto the baked-black permacrete.

They saw Dane and Christa off with the ship, which the Way Industries maintenance crew was already swarming over, and hopped a transit pod heading into the city. Gerard didn't relax until they were out of the spaceport entirely, and even then he shook his head when Frank opened his mouth.

_Let's just get the hell home_ , he said in Frank's mind; he'd loosed his grip, but they were still linked, a bare soft touch in the back of Frank's head that was more comfortable than anything. Frank tipped his head back against the wall of the pod, sliding his eyes shut, and just let his own ragged shields slowly knit themselves back into place. It had been a shit of a long fucking day, and the angle of the sun stabbing through his eyelids said it was barely noon, local time. He was going to sleep for a _week_ when they got back.

_That's fine, Frankie_ , Gerard murmured, and Frank could feel him thinking sort-of-guiltily that they'd completely missed both the weekend and the Mission Blue show while they were off-planet. Frank tried to wave a hand, indicate that he didn't actually give a fuck, but he was sliding into semi-consciousness fast, and he only woke up when it was time to stumble out of the pod and up through the gardens and hallways to his blessed and desperately-missed bed. He barely even noticed Gerard hovering worriedly behind him, let alone wishing him good-night.

* * *

It was warm and dark, and there was a voice murmuring in his ear as hands smoothed across his skin. Frank arched, pressing up into the touch, and dug his fingers into skin and muscle, clutching tight as his hips pushed up and up and up, rutting shamelessly against the hard cock that slid slick against his. "Yeah, fuck, like that," breath washed hot and wet across his neck before sharp teeth dug in just below his ear, and Frank bucked and whined and barely managed to choke out, "Gee –" before he jerked awake on the edge of orgasm, unable even to get a hand on himself before he was trembling and pulsing and coming right there in his shorts.

"...ffffff _uck_." Frank slumped back against the pillow, blinking fuzzily up at the ceiling. That was – shit, his motherfucking _feet_ were tingling. Wasn't he supposed to have outgrown waking up with a mess in his shorts, by now? And – god, it _had_ been Gerard, in the dream, even though Frank hadn't seen his face he'd just _known_ in that stupid dream way. Apparently dream-Frank hadn't been freaked out at all by getting it on with his boss-slash-ex-best-friend (slash whatever the fuck else Gerard was, at this point); he'd been too busy enthusiastically participating, the asshole.

Frank shuddered, struggling over onto his stomach so he could push his face into the pillow, ignoring the sticky mess in his crotch as best he could. Fuck, he could still feel dream-Gerard's hands on him, and in not-all-that-long he was going to have to go into the office, and there was a meeting that afternoon, and fuck his fucking life. "Ugh," he mumbled into the muffling softness of the pillow. Maybe he'd just fucking smother himself, shit.

His com beeped then, though, the alarm building quickly to a crescendo of _really fucking annoying_ , and Frank groaned and flailed and shoved himself up off the mattress to shut it up. At which point, there was really nothing for it but to stumble into the shower, still in his underwear because it wasn't like it was going to get any grosser, and try his best to scrub the stupid phantom memories out of his skin. It was a losing battle, though, and apparently even after coming that fucking hard his dick wasn't done for the morning. Frank leaned forward into the spray, bouncing his forehead lightly off the tile (didn't help), and determinedly didn't think about anything as he let himself... just...

Frank was doing fine not thinking about it, in fact, until Gerard's office door hissed open and he wandered out, most of his attention clearly on his com screen. Frank felt his face go completely and startlingly hot, and he ducked his head, staring furiously at his terminal and the expenses sheet he was supposed to be checking.

"Wha – oh." Gerard, when Frank dared a peek up, was looking at the floor, and the tips of his ears were definitely kind of pink. Frank squirmed, praying that he hadn't been accidentally broadcasting; it was getting easier and easier to slip into mental synch with Gerard, like when they were kids. He'd never had to worry about this shit back then, though it occurred to him now, for the first time, that Gerard must have. Had he dreamed about Lindsey, back then?

Fuck, he seriously couldn't think about Gerard waking up sticky and embarrassed or he was _actually going to die_. Frank cleared his throat a couple of times, pulling his shields in brain-achingly tight, and eventually managed a passing imitation of normal human speech. "Did the Head message you? She called, but you were busy."

"Huh?" Gerard shook his head like he was trying to clear it, still not meeting Frank's eyes. Fuck, had he actually caught any of that? Frank cringed. "Oh, right, Mom, yeah. I should... call her back, I guess," Gerard mumbled, and almost tripped over his own feet, he was in such a hurry to disappear back into his office. Frank waited for the door to slide closed before groaning – quietly – and dropping his head to rest on the desk.

He'd just managed to re-enter the state of Not Thinking About It, thinking as loudly as he could about expenses and finance codes and how much he hated math in the hope that it would drown out anything else, when the main door slide open and Don Way stomped in. Which wasn't in itself all that odd, but oh hell yes a distraction.

"Morning, sir." Frank tried to dial the grin down from manic to just cheerful, but Mr Way still gave him kind of an odd look, nodding.

"Morning. Gee around?"

"Sure, go on through," Frank told him, even though he actually had no idea whether Gerard was busy or on the com or jerking o – fuck, no, bad thoughts. Frank bit his tongue, hard, feeling his face heat violently, and only just kept from squirming in his seat. Mr Way squinted at him, and Frank could feel him wondering, and then clearly deciding not to ask. He just nodded, palming the inner door opening and sticking his head through.

Frank slid down low in his seat, breathing carefully through his nose and letting the Ways' conversation slide right by him as he thought very firmly about his Grandma's birthday that was coming up and how he was going to have to take a leave day for the party Aunt Rosa was planning. It wasn't like it was important, anyway, just some Council committee ceremony that Mr Way wanted Gerard to attend; it was only the cloud of reluctance steaming off Gerard's mind that actually caught Frank's attention, because it was so at odds with the easy agreement coming out of his mouth. Frank's first thought was that it was a fucking good thing Mr Way wasn't a telepath; there was nothing but satisfaction in his mind as he left the office, and a clear sense of another item crossed off the day's agenda.

It nagged at him, though. Even through the now-closed door, Frank could feel the boil of Gerard's mind, shielded but colored a murky bruise-gray with misery and self-loathing. It didn't make any sense; the Ways had always been cool, and Frank was sure that if Mr Way had known Gerard didn't want to go to whatever thing it was, he'd have fixed something else up. And, sure, it'd probably be a drag, but even Gerard could manage one fucking afternoon of fake-smiling for assholes and politicians. There had to be something else to it, but Frank couldn't think _what_ and he was halfway certain that asking would just make Gerard shut down entirely. Come to that, he still wasn't sure he could handle actually linking with the dude without going up in flames, and fuck but there he went _thinking about it_ again. Mother. Of. Fuck.

"Uh." Gerard's voice, flat-edged and weird, made Frank startle and throw up the strongest shield he could manage, jerking up from where he'd been banging his head on the desk. Great, he was just going to be blushing for the rest of his fucking life, jeez. Gerard was giving him a weird and slightly squint-eyed look, but even shielded Frank could _see_ the jittery discomfort running underneath in the way he was twisting his fingers together, his shoulders hunched up and lip disappearing between his teeth.

"Uh," Frank managed, blanking on any kind of explanation that wouldn't make things worse. Gerard kind of peered at him under his hair, then shrugged, jerky, and glanced toward the door.

"I'm going out. I – yeah," he ended, limp, already edging away. Frank had a sudden, sharply clear memory of the shithole bar he'd dragged Gerard out of, the pill blisters and medi-sprays under the bar, but he couldn't dredge up the words, and eventually Gerard just nodded awkwardly and sidled out, leaving Frank staring after him. Well, fuck.

* * *

Frank was in the middle of a hideously convoluted – and hideously _dull_ – spreadsheet reconciliation on the Epipolis project setup costs when his com chimed with an incoming call. He reached to answer it without so much as looking at the originating node ID. "Way Industries, office of the – oh." Frank stumbled to a stop, blinking in confusion, because that was definitely Gerard on the screen, and Gerard had been shut up in his office all morning working on planning for Mr Way's new project. Hadn't he?

"Hey, Frank, listen." Gerard looked around himself sort of furtively, and Frank stared, because he obviously _wasn't_ in his office, there was a fucking _football tree_ behind him. "I – wait, you're on your own, right?"

"Uh-huh." A football tree, for real. How the fuck had Gerard even left? The door panel was still lit up blue for _occupied_ , even. "What the fuck, man?"

"Whatever, just, I need your help, okay? I'll explain later, can you go grab the skimmer and come get me? The one in back of the garage, not Mom's, and don't let anyone see you."

"What the fuck," Frank repeated, but he was already undocking his com and pushing himself to his feet. "You better not be fucking wasted again, man, I'll kick your fucking ass."

"Fuck, whatever." Gerard rolled his eyes huffily, and Frank snorted, spreading out his senses to check if anyone was coming before he headed out toward the garage. It was well past lunch; everyone should be too busy to bug him. He hoped, anyway.

"Where the hell am I supposed to be going, anyway?" he hissed into the com while he waited for one of the maint drones to trundle out of the driveway. "Fuck, I can't talk to you and sneak, this is ridiculous."

"Fuck you, fucking link, then," Gerard hissed back, and when Frank managed a glance down at the screen he was looking half over his shoulder, like he thought he was being watched. Maybe he'd finally fucking snapped, the paranoid idiot.

"Fucking fine," Frank groused, taking a deep breath in and settling his shields before stretching out. _Where are you, asshole?_

_Here_ , Gerard reached back, and Frank locked into contact with him immediately. He was all the way over on the other side of the city – almost right to the river cliffs, Frank could feel, and he rolled his eyes, palming open the garage door. _Hurry up_ , Gerard urged; Frank sent back a firm mental image of his own hand, middle finger extended.

It was weird, the way the link just snapped into place between them – almost like they were still kids, like that whole seven years hadn't even happened. At the same time, Frank couldn't remember that it had ever been this easy for Gerard to see _into_ him; it was an effort to keep any part of himself back, let alone the thoughts he'd buried deep beneath layers of shields to keep them from drifting back to Gerard. _Which one?_ he sent, glancing around the dim recesses of the garage, and Gerard wordlessly directed him to the back corner and a seriously tiny skimmer that looked like it'd sooner fall apart than fly. It didn't even have tags, Frank saw, and a trickle of shock ran through him as he realized that was the point.

_What the hell is going on?_ he demanded, cracking open the canopy and scrambling up into the pilot seat. For a long moment it seemed like nothing was going to happen, but on his third stab at the power control the terminal flickered to life, and the drive coughed and whined as it started up. _Seriously, if you get me fucking arrested..._

_We're not gonna get arrested_. Gerard disappeared for a moment before crashing back into the link. _Fuck, hurry. Take the back way, don't try and come through the fucking city or you'll bring all the assholes down on us._

_Who?_ Frank pushed, gunning the engine as soon as he'd cleared the end of the Ways' street. Despite the skimmer's appearance – there was fucking peeling paint and bits of trim hanging off it, clattering in the slipstream – it was responsive as all get-out, the whine of the drive all but vanishing when he kicked it up to top speed, ascending out of the street into the skyway. _Fucking explain, damn it._

_Fine, look, we need a distraction up here._ Gerard sounded pretty distracted already; Frank could feel that most of his attention was elsewhere. _The fucking pigs are crawling all over, they haven't found the lander but even if the guys make it over there, no way are they taking off. I need the skimmer to draw them off, you don't gotta get involved, but fucking hurry, please Frank?_

_Shit._ Frank jammed the controls forward, pushing the drive until he was passing the rest of the skyway traffic as fast as he dared. _What the fuck are you even – shit, Gerard._

_I know, okay, just_ – Gerard broke off, suddenly, and Frank bit his tongue, checking all around for patrols before gritting his teeth and flooring it, skipping up out of the top of the skylane envelope. This thing had to be faster than any Peace Keeper vehicle; they could chase him all they liked, but without identifying tags... _Hang on_ , he thought grimly at Gerard, reaching desperately for the fading link. _Just... hang on._

Frank's bones were ringing with the subsonic scream of the hoverdrive by the time he angled the little skimmer up the ravine, hugging the edge of the cliff and trying to ignore the long drop down to the river below. He could see the Peace Keepers the moment he passed the last collapsed building shell from the old outpost; there were three shuttles, drawn up together blocking the end of the roadway, and at least a dozen white-uniformed officers standing guard or waving scanners around.

_Fuck_. Frank ducked the skimmer back below the edge of the cliff, flailing out mentally to try and locate Gerard. Shit, he was going to get arrested, and what if they tortured him for information, and his mom was going to freak the hell out, and... fuck, _there_. He latched on to the sense of Gerard's presence, pressing into the link so hard he could feel Gerard reeling.

_Frankie, whoa, what...?_ Gerard caught him and steadied him, but Frank could feel it took effort.

_I'm here, where are you?_ Frank opened his mind as much as he dared, letting Gerard _see_ his location, his mental map of all the fucking Peace Keepers crawling around up top of the ridge.

_Fuck, fuck, okay_. Gerard drew back a little, then _showed_ Frank a picture of where he was hiding, around the bend of the river a ways, where the cliff sloped away enough for cover. There were people with him; Frank caught a rapid flash of faces, unfamiliar, and a glimpse of a ship, hidden by a camo field on the edge of a stand of trees almost a kilo away across the ridge. Right. Frank thought fast, quickly discarding any idea of handing the skiff over, because hell if he was going to stick around here for the fucking Peace Keepers to trip over. There was only one thing for it, clearly.

_I'm gonna come around to you_ , he told Gerard, thumbing the control to dip the skimmer further, as far down and in to the cliff as he dared. The river was loud enough that it didn't seem like the PKs could hear the engine noise, at least; he still kept it as low and slow as he could, hugging the cliff as he crept along the ravine toward the jut of rock where the river turned to rush down to the sea. It took him a long, desperate moment to spot Gerard, hunkered down behind an overgrown outcrop with one arm looped around the lumpy trunk of a football tree. The others – there was a blond guy, big, and a girl who looked pissed as hell, both in dirty shipsuits – were flat out in the dirt, right where the grass shot up tall at the top of the slope, and Frank had no fucking clue how the PKs hadn't caught them already. Biting his tongue so hard it stung, he maneuvered the skimmer in as close as he dared, cracking the canopy. _Gee, come on._

_What?_ Gerard swung around to stare at him, clutching at his tree like he needed it to hold him up. He was close enough that Frank could just roll his eyes, gesturing, and any other time he'd have found Gerard's dubious look fucking hilarious.

_I won't fucking let you fall, come on!_

"Go on," the blond guy shouted, sliding a couple of meters downhill toward Gerard. "If you draw them off we can make it."

"But –" Gerard started, but Big and Blond – and Frank was starting to have a definite suspicion about just who the hell he was, or at least what – shook his head frantically, scrambling back and pulling something off his belt. A gun, Frank realized with a shock. Fuck, he _was_ a pirate – either that, or Gerard had gone into the business of jailbreaking, and either way, he was in so far over his head, shit.

"Cover us, Poison!" the pirate guy shouted, whatever the hell that meant, and Frank could hear the racked of the Peace Keepers coming this way, the roar of a shuttle firing up. Fuck. Clinging grimly to the controls with one hand, he stretched out across the passenger seat, shoving the canopy wide and _reaching_ to grab hold of Gerard.

_Jump!_ He ordered, and Gerard did, white-faced and desperate, rocking the skimmer dangerously close to the cliff as he slammed into the side of it. Frank latched onto his filthy black shirt with fingers and mind, yanking him into the cabin in a reckless tumble that ended up with Gerard sprawled across the passenger seat with his face smushed against Frank's thigh. Frank might even have appreciated that, possibly, if he hadn't been busy slamming the canopy shut and gunning the engine.

It occurred to him, as he was making the showiest and most obvious U-turn possible, one eye on the Peace Keepers who were scrambling to get into the air to follow, that he'd never really considered how the hell Gerard had known where to find fucking pirates in the first place, back when they'd snuck Lindsey off-planet. Possibly, Frank thought, slamming the control stick forward until he could barely breath from the acceleration that thrust him back into the seat, that had been an oversight.

* * *

Mikey – of course – was waiting for them when Gerard directed Frank to set the skimmer down in the shadowy interior of a boathouse downriver from the docks. There was a hydro-lift, and Mikey had it running almost before Frank had managed to scramble out of the pilot's seat, tucking the skiff up and away into the gloom of the rafters. Clever, Frank thought; this was clearly some serious shit.

"So," he started, then held his breath as a shuttlecar hummed past on the road side. When it had faded, both Mikey and Gerard were looking at him oddly, like they were waiting for – something. "Right. Okay." Shit, he was babbling. Frank rubbed his palms against his pants – his _work_ pants, because he was supposed to still be in the fucking _office_. "So, care to fill me in?" His mind felt raw and jumbled, jagged-edged; he yanked back so fast when Gerard reached out to link that he almost gave himself whiplash.

"Frankie –" Gerard started, and Frank snorted, whirling to pace up the length of the dry dock.

"Don't even start. How long has this – have you been involved in this shit?"

"Um." Gerard's voice was very small, and Mikey's silence felt more pointed than usual. "Since – uh, since you left, I guess? Well, kind of before – I mean, that whole thing with Linds was just... it was the first time I'd seen it," he ended, kind of weakly.

" _What_?!" Frank snapped, stopping at the end of the boathouse. He couldn't quite make himself look at Gerard, so he stared at the jumble of paint tins and brushes piled over the workbenches instead.

"This whole fucking system," Gerard stopped, and Frank could picture him tugging on his hair. "It's broken – the Council's nothing but a mouthpiece for the big Families, they're taking control of everything, pushing their fucking happy pills to stop people seeing how they're being, being fucking _manipulated_. They tell you where you can go, who you can work for, who to fucking _marry_ even, all that bullshit about compatibility is just a fucking excuse for their goddamn breeding program –"

"Gee," Mikey broke in, soft, and Gerard fell silent, breathing so hard Frank could hear it.

"So, what," he said eventually, turning half-unwillingly, "you've been, what? Hooking people up to run off with the fucking space pirates?"

"Kinda," Mikey said blandly, but Gerard cut in again, shaking his head urgently and pacing a couple steps toward Frank. The light falling through the gaping mouth of the boathouse made a blurry halo around him, casting his face into shadow.

"There's more out there than you think, Frank – the Lanes aren't the be-all and end-all of space travel, there's colonies, stations, whole fucking _worlds_ beyond the Families' reach."

"What, you gonna beg me to come away with you now?" Frank snorted, clutching at sarcasm as a shield against the cold pit of dread that had opened in his stomach.

"Fuck, whatever," Gerard started hotly, but Frank lost the rest of whatever he was saying as a shadow crossed the hazy square of light from the doorway. It was like the pit in his stomach gaped suddenly wide, sucking him in; he was reaching out before he could even think about it, brushing over the edge of the interloper's mind and recoiling at what he found. Somewhere very distant, there was a hiss of indrawn breath – Mikey – but all Frank's attention was on the Peace Keeper who was pausing, turning, squinting as he stared into the darkness of the boathouse.

_No_. There wasn't ever a point, Frank felt afterwards, that he could pinpoint as a decision; he just pushed against the flat, locked-in mind of the Peace Keeper, thrusting an image of empty space before his eyes and turning him on down the path. It wasn't until his footsteps faded into the distance that Frank's legs gave out on him and he dropped to his knees, heaving.

"Fuck, Frankie." Gerard crouched down, setting an uncertain hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank flinched away from even the lightest mental contact, and bent over his knees, trying to spit the puke-taste out of his mouth. Somewhere very far away, he could hear Mikey complaining about grossness, sense Gerard flipping him off. "Are you okay?" Gerard asked him, very carefully, and Frank choked out a sickly breath of laughter, letting Gerard help him up to his feet.

"Fine. _Fuck_ , what the hell –"

"That was..." Gerard trailed off, and Frank grimaced, ducking his head. _Unethical_ was probably the politest word; he felt dirty, inside and out.

"He was – gonna see," he managed eventually. "Fuck, I don't even know –"

"Yeah." Gerard kept a hand on Frank's shoulder, and Frank fought not to lean into it. It made his heart hurt; he couldn't begin to untangle the feeling. "I... I get it, Frankie, okay? I've done – well, sometimes you don't get a choice, you know?"

"Ugh." Frank bent over, spitting again, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Yeah. Fuck, can we get out of here? I need a fucking shower."

* * *

Mikey was the one to suggest the show at the Lost Lane, and Frank grasped the distraction with both hands. Noise and sweat and movement was what he needed; he didn't want to think about the pirates or the Peace Keepers or Gerard's fucking diatribe about the Council, and he didn't want to think about what he'd done. A beer – a fucking shit ton of beers – sounded good as well, so he didn't even message back to ask who was playing, just threw on a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans that were shredded enough not to be a loss if he tore them up in the pit, and high-tailed it down to the main gate.

He didn't expect to see Gerard, of all people, fidgeting beside Mikey with his hands buried in the pockets of his – really sweet – denim jacket, but whatever, Frank thought, bounding up and doing his best to mess up Mikey's artfully arranged hair. Mikey squawked indignantly and pushed him off, his eyes almost crossing as he patted it back into place, and Frank giggled semi-involuntarily, caroming off Gerard's shoulder before he came to a stop, bouncing on his toes. There was a tight ball of anticipation knotting in his stomach, fed by everything that had stuck and tangled up inside him all day, and it was going to go off at some point, but...

"Hey," he made himself say, swallowing stupid giggles. Gerard sort of ducked his head in a nod, palming open the gate, and Frank followed him through, wondering very very privately in the deepest and most shielded part of his mind whether Gerard had actually had to paint those pants on. They looked good on him – _really_ good, and the eyeliner and whatever he'd done to his hair didn't hurt _at all_ – but, shit.

They had to hop a transit pod, waving their IDs over the scanner, so Frank wedged himself comfortably into the corner, propping his feet up on the opposite seat even though it made Gerard sigh at him, and started grilling Mikey about who was playing, and who else was coming. It sounded like the kind of show Jamia would've liked, a bit more on the metal side than Frank normally preferred, or would have pegged Mikey for a fan of, really, but it made more sense when Gerard sat up on the seat and began waxing lyrical about the headliners and their influences. His startled face when the pod stopped and Mikey nudged him to get out was pretty hilarious, and so was the half-resigned half-injured face he made when Frank laughed at him.

The doors had already opened, so they didn't even have to stand in line. Frank made an immediate beeline for the bar, newly-legal ID clutched in his hand, and downed his first beer there before ordering another, and a couple extras for the ride. He had to hop up onto his toes to catch sight of Mikey's stupid hair, and it occurred to him as he squeezed his way through the throng that he could just have reached out to Gerard, but... the memory of earlier was still too close. Anyway, tonight wasn't for thinking about psi factors, _or_ fucking pirates or revolutions or whatever Gee's deal was. Frank took a determined pull on his beer and elbowed an annoyingly tall dude aside enough to squeeze through.

"Here!" He shoved a bottle at Mikey, dangling the other in Gerard's direction. Gerard half reached out, like he was going to take it, then hesitated, swallowed visibly, took his hand back. Frank tilted his head, but Gerard just shook his, so, whatever, Frank had two beers. Shrugging, he took a swig, planting the small of his back against the barrier and getting comfy, since it seemed like the techs were still setting up the stage.

"Mikeyway!" someone shrieked, latching onto Mikey's neck, and – oh, it was Luce. Frank grinned, and saluted her with his half-finished beer, and watched Mikey struggle to dislodge her. Gerard shuffled out of the line of fire, almost tripping over Frank, and kind of looked around before shrugging and staying put. Frank felt like he should say something, but he didn't know what, so he just took another pull on his beer, rubbing his fingers over the print of the label, and when the first band came out to kick off the show he thrust both bottles into Gerard's hands and threw himself forward, slamming his way up to the front. Time to fucking _move_ , motherfuckers, he thought, before the music opened up and swallowed him.

When he crawled his way out of its grip, staggering back up to the barrier, Gerard handed over his beer without a word, his eyes wide and glittering in the lights. Frank wiped sweat out of his eyes – no blood yet, cool – and took a long gulp, kind of wishing he could just dump it over his head. If it'd been water, he probably would've, but it was a shame to waste good beer, so Frank just chugged it, tipping his head back to get the last drops.

"Fuck," Gerard muttered, quiet enough that Frank wasn't really sure whether he heard with his ears or mind, and pushed off the barrier, stumbling off. Frank twisted to stare after him, frowning, but when he started to follow Mikey caught his eyes, shaking his head. Well, whatever; Frank shrugged, leaning back against the barrier and just... feeling all the places he'd have bruises tomorrow. With any luck he could make some more when the headliners came on; he nodded along when Luce leaned in to shout something about getting more drinks into his ear.

The techs were out again, shifting kit and taping stuff onto the stage, so there was probably time for a bathroom break, Frank decided, pushing off the barrier – that was really fucking annoying, actually, because now he had to walk all the way to the end and around to get to the back exit. He found the bathroom, and pissed out some of the beer that was sitting on his bladder, and washed his hands even though the sink was totally grosser than his dick. There were, like, rules and shit. He still wiped his hands off on his pants after, shouldering the door open and setting out back to the auditorium. Except, there was a voice he recognized, from behind a half-open door, and Frank's feet had stopped before he realized it.

"—can't guarantee you'll make it, you should wait if you can," Gerard was saying, and Frank eased closer to the door, feeling the cooler air brushing past his cheek. Fuck, that felt good.

"Waiting never helped anyone," another voice said, unfamiliar. "Don't worry your pretty little head about us, Poison. Getting off this rock's gonna be the easy part, capiche?"

"Yeah, it's the Station we gotta worry about," someone else chimed in, to the sound of shifting feet. Frank was getting kind of a sinking feeling about this, and started to ease back. But – okay, it wasn't his business, and he didn't _want_ it to be his business, but if someone else came by here...

"You'll need a distraction, then," Gerard argued. Frank knew that tone; it was the one he'd had when Mikey decided he wanted to swing across the pond on a rope, or ride Frank's cousin's skateboard down the shuttlepark exit ramp. "The Peace Keepers are getting worse, and they've got security drones now... The generator trick is only going to work so many times before they isolate the power supplies."

"I take your point," Voice One drawled, "but the longer we leave it, the more cameras and drones there'll be. We're faster than them; so what if they ID us?"

"Not all of us want our faces on Wanted holos from here to the Rigel Cluster," Voice Two grumbled. "I'm not fucking suicidal; I don't need them actively chasing me."

"Maybe you shouldn't be running then," Voice One said lightly, and they all fell silent. Frank bit his lip, easing closer to the gap and angling his head to try and see. All he caught was a slice of Gerard's profile, the start of his ear.

"Maybe... Distracting them worked today," Gerard said slowly, and Frank winced. "We – uh, well, we could try that again?" He didn't sound at all certain, though, and Frank couldn't help snorting.

"You're a fucking idiot," he announced, shoving the door open. The commotion from the auditorium was a clear signifier that the headliners had come on, but Frank checked over his shoulder anyway before easing the door almost shut. The two guys with Gerard had backed up, eyes wide, but Gee just sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He'd known Frank was there, clearly.

"Well, fucking think of something better, then."

"Fuck you, man. Just – I don't know, make a mess." Frank rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Blow something the fuck up. Hell, blow up the security drone hangar, hit 'em where it hurts. If you wanna sneak out the back way, send everyone to the front, you know?"

"...I like the way you think!" The paler-skinned guy, Voice One – they were both tall, lanky fuckers, but this guy had an annoying smirky face and the other one was warier – clapped Frank enthusiastically on the shoulder, staggering him. Frank manfully resisted the urge to punch him in the dick.

"Blowing shit up _is_ a classic," the darker-skinned guy agreed cautiously. Guy One made an expansive gesture, grabbing him by the sleeve.

"I can see it now – but we'd better skedaddle, sweethearts. Catch you on the flipside, Party Poison, Party Poison's ghoulish friend," he nodded at – oh, Frank's tattoo. Frank blinked down at his monster, wondering if it was really that hard to identify fucking _Frankenstein_ , and when he looked up they were already gone.

"What the hell," he objected, and Gerard snorted, shuffling over to peer around the door.

_He meant your 'let's blow shit up for giggles' thing, Frankie_. "Come on, we're gonna miss it."

" _You_ come on." Frank ducked around Gerard, who was moving way too slow, and grabbed his jacket sleeve, starting to tow him back toward the show. _And it's not for fucking giggles, it's for very important strategy shit, okay._

* * *

"Okay." Frank paused on the threshold, checking that no one was actually about to appear and interrupt, then shrugged, walking into Gerard's office and palming the door shut behind him. "You said you'd explain later, right?"

"What?" Gerard looked up from – oh, he was totally fucking reading a graphic, the asshole. Frank pointed accusingly at him.

"I just spent _all morning_ reviewing the supply chain accounts." _Motherfucker_ , he added mentally, and Gerard winced guiltily, flipping the screen off and pushing his com aside.

"Should I help?" He was doing that fucking big eyes thing again, all soulful and stupidly pretty, and that was a thought Frank definitely had to squash down as small and quiet as possible. His hair even looked like it was nearly clean, soft and falling in his face instead of sticking wherever he shoved it.

"What?" Frank squinted at him, mentally replaying the last twenty seconds. "Oh – nah, it's done now. Just don't spoil me if that's the new _Black Saints_. Uh, but, you said you'd explain about the whole," he made a zooming motion with his hand. Gerard frowned in puzzlement, watching the hand like it might do something else, and Frank sighed, surrendered to the inevitable, and reached out to link. _The fucking pirate thing, you moron._

_Oh_. Gerard frowned deeper; Frank looked around, but the only other chair was the opposite side of the desk, which was just too interview, so he shrugged and perched on the corner of the table, swinging his feet. _I thought I did explain, though?_ "I mean," Gerard continued, dropping into speech, "we, like, talked about it? Or – I mean, I guess if there's other stuff you wanna know, you know, like I talked to Lindsey the other week? She's doing great, she sent me a bunch of pics of her art projects."

"...Uh." Lindsey's art projects, while clearly of great interest to Gerard, because he was a fucking nerd, were not actually what Frank had been thinking of. "Actually I kind of mean, you know, how the hell you even got mixed up in this shit, dude."

"Oh." Gerard frowned, fiddling with his com. "Like, it was kind of an accident? I kind of – fuck, it was years ago. I was looking for something on the network, I think, and I came across this conversation that seemed like it had to be some kind of code, but it was referring to a place, you know? So I... kind of sneaked around, and I totally got caught, but once I realized they weren't actually – uh, I thought they were kidnappers first, I mean, but this chick, I don't even know her name, but she kicked me in the fucking balls and told me to mind my own business. And, well." Gerard shrugged, as Frank's brain struggled to catch up. "I was all, like, gonna be a super ninja or some bullshit, but it turned out Linds was already talking to this guy, and she ended up asking me for help, you know how that worked out. I was involved, then, so..."

"What, like, you're the guy on the inside?" Frank hazarded; Gerard made a face, picking at the edge of the desk.

"Kinda, sometimes? Mostly just, like, helping get people out if they wanna run, really."

"Huh." Frank still didn't exactly get that – how bad would it have to be, for him to abandon his Family and his mom and friends and his entire fucking _life_?

_Bad enough_ , Gerard said, because Frank's shields were clearly fucking non-existent or something. _Imagine if you wanted to – fucking I don't know, start a band or something, be this totally awesome rock star –_

_I wouldn't say no,_ Frank couldn't resist pointing out, which made Gerard roll his eyes impatiently.

"Yeah, but your Family would. You were born into a place, Frankie, same as me, and every fucking thing the Council does is locking us further into this shit."

"Wait." Frank made a _whoa_ motion, kicking his feet out hard. "You don't wanna inherit your Family?"

"What?" Gerard shook his head, hair flying. "No, that's not what I'm saying."

"Well, what the fuck are you saying, then?" Frank demanded pissily, prodding at the dead-guy stylus holder desk ornament thing. Gruesome; awesome.

"I'm _saying_ ," and Gerard sounded pretty pissy himself now, which Frank secretly enjoyed the hell out of, "no one should have to accept some fucking arbitrary limit on who they are or what they can be! Or how they can express themselves, or whatever," he added, like it was an afterthought, but Frank could feel how big and jagged that piece was, of all the things that stuck in Gerard's throat. When had he last seen Gerard draw? he wondered, a sudden twist in his chest.

"So," he tried to keep his voice light, but he could feel Gerard's eyes and attention on him. "Where should I, uh, sign up or whatever?"

"What?" Gerard startled back like Frank had suggested he skydive off the top of the Capitol or some equally fucking ridiculous thing. "No, you – don't be stupid, Frank."

"Fuck you, you just said no one should tell me what to do," Frank pointed out – entirely reasonably, he thought, but Gerard gaped like a gulper fish, opening and closing his mouth several times before he found words.

"No, but – Frankie, this isn't some motherfucking adventure story out of a graphic, okay, there's no –" Gerard waved a hand wildly, leaning forward over the desk, "no fucking heroes, okay, and if you try and be one you'll get yourself fucking _killed_. For _real_."

"What, as opposed to fake killed?" Frank scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and glaring.

"Don't even joke about that shit." Gerard glared right back, eyes bright and a hard flush across the tops of his cheekbones, stupidly fucking hot. "Frank, you've got your Mom and your whole Family and everyone – you wanna worry them? You wanna get them involved when the motherfuckers come looking for you?"

... _Fuck_ , Frank realized. Gerard sat up a little taller, clearly sensing that, and Frank scowled at him, pointing an accusing finger. "What, like you don't have a Family? Last I saw," he couldn't resist adding, "Mikey was fucking neck deep in this, too, so don't give me that bullshit. If you think I can't fucking handle it, just fucking insult me to my face, already." _I can take it, asshole._

_I can't_ , Frank caught in the split second before Gerard slammed his shields up, leaning over the desk to grab his com. "This shit is for real, okay, Frank, you can't just – did you ever even think about what happens to the ones who don't make it? People disappear all the fucking time, and not all of them get free, and _we don't know what happens to them because no one reports it_."

"...I don't scare that easily, Gee." Frank pushed off the desk, pacing over to the window. It looked out over the private Family garden; there was the rope swing dangling from the tree that Frank had broken his elbow falling off when he was eight. He could feel Gerard watching him, wound up so tight he was almost vibrating, could tell he wasn't going to do anything about it, either. Maybe... "So why don't I know about so much of this stuff, anyway?" he asked, staring at the empty bench seat on the patio. It looked like no one had used it in fucking years; it was probably a lair for hundreds of giant spiders.

"Huh?"

"The – all this people disappearing and the Council and the Peace Keepers and shit." Frank waved a vague hand to indicate the whole, whatever. Although now that he really thought about it, people disappeared out of his life all the freaking time; that was what happened when you shipped around from Station to Station, or your parents did. He hadn't had a message from Jamia in days, and he hadn't worried about it at all until now, because she was probably just busy, but...

"Well, it's not exactly plastered across FACT," Gerard pointed out dryly. "It's harder to censor the network, but like, how do you know they _don't_?"

"Dude, don't ask me." Frank leaned his ass against the window frame. "So, what, you're part of the, uh, network or whatever, _Party Poison_?" That had been what Tall Asshole One had called him. Frank was secretly a little jealous, because it was cool, but the way it made Gerard pink all along the tops of his cheeks and ears was definitely the best part. And, fuck, there was that squirm of heat in his stomach again; Frank blocked it ruthlessly off.

"Names are dangerous, okay." He folded his arms over his chest, as near to pouting as made no difference. "And, like, there isn't really a, you know, organized thing? I just... know some people, I guess. Keep an eye on the 109 and shit."

"One-oh-nine?" Frank prompted, and Gerard rolled his eyes around uncomfortably.

"Just, like – it's kind of a community, kind of a broadcast system sort of thing?" _I can't really..._

"Dude," Frank interrupted, making a talk-to-the-hand gesture and then ruining it with an involuntary giggle. "You know I'm not gonna let up until you show me, so just fucking spill, okay?"

* * *

"You have to what?" Frank stared at the com screen; Gerard at least had the grace to look chagrined, and also like he wasn't any happier about it than Frank.

"I know I said I'd help you with the expenses, but Grant insisted. I think there's something big going down, you know? Oh, Mikey should be home, though, so you can get him to help you? Tell him I said please and shit."

"Like that'll help." Frank glared as Gerard made shifty motions with his eyes. "Where the fuck even are you?"

"The Center." Gerard glanced over his shoulder, clearly distracted. "I had – never mind. Anyway, Mom's gonna bring my shit and all, since they're invited too. It's some kinda big fucking deal."

"I'm getting the idea, yeah," Frank snarked back, slumping back in his chair. "So is it top-secret, or can you share?"

"Like I know." Gerard snorted, shoving his hair out of his face. He could do with cutting it, Frank thought; it was shaggy as hell, the dye growing out, and probably filthy too. And that was a stupid-ass thought to have; almost as stupid as the way Frank kind of wanted to sink his hands into it. He was so fucked.

"Well, guess I won't wait up?" Frank rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath through his nose. "Have fun, or whatever."

"This is the opposite of fun," Gerard said, and Frank blinked; there was something off about his tone, a sharpness and depth he hadn't expected, but Gerard was already glancing over his shoulder again, reaching for the call toggle. "I gotta go, okay; just find Mikey."

"Okay," Frank said slowly, but Gerard was already gone, the screen flickering to black. Frank stared at it until it turned itself off, wondering. That had sounded kind of urgent, definitely way more than the stupid expenses required, and Gerard had to know Mikey wouldn't even be all that much help since he didn't know why the hell the Tamar Seven routing outpost needed five tons of cable lubricant any more than Frank did. And the way Gee had kept on saying it was big – maybe he _should_ go find Mikey, Frank decided vaguely, flipping his terminal into low-power mode. He just... needed to locate the guy, first.

Despite Frank's misgivings, Mikey wasn't actually that hard to find since he answered his com straight away, directing Frank into the main house and upstairs to his room. Unlike Gerard, Mikey had moved out of his childhood bedroom, and was currently occupying a bolthole up under the eaves that seemed more like it would be kept for some distant cousin who only visited on birthdays and Foundation Day. The door was open when Frank wandered up there, music spilling out into the hall at enough volume that Frank could maybe see why he preferred it up here.

"Hey?" he tried to project over the wailing of some synthroid guitar riff, aware that Mikey had to know he was there. In response, the door swung open further, revealing Mikey sitting sideways in a desk chair, his feet dangling over the arm as he swung slowly from side to side with no visible propulsion. A fraction of a nod was all the acknowledgment Frank got; he shrugged, crossing to flop down on Mikey's roughly-made bed and stare around at the posters lining the walls. Graphics and bands, and maybe three or four that he knew out of the lot; huh. Frank's eye was caught by the giant Neo-Starblaze plastered across the closet door, though; it looked original, hand-painted, which meant it had to be Gerard's work, and he couldn't help but wonder how old it was.

"What's up?" Mikey asked, when the song came to a thrashing end; he crooked a finger in the direction of the audio controls, and the dial turned smoothly down as the next track started up.

"Oh. Uh." Frank shrugged one shoulder, feeling like an idiot. "Gee – Gerard called, he has to go to some gala announcement thing of the Morrisons' all of a sudden, and he said I should get you to help code the expenses, but I have no fucking idea what he, uh, actually meant."

"Huh." Mikey swung around in his chair some more, picking up his com from the desk and flipping the message screen out and back in. "I never heard anything about a gala."

"Yeah." Frank fidgeted with a loose thread in the sleeve of his shirt. "He kept on saying something big was gonna go down, though. It seemed – important, I guess."

"...Hm." Mikey flipped his com open again, eyes narrowing as he zoomed through screens faster than Frank could have followed even if he'd been looking at the right side. "There's a thing on FACT, but it doesn't, like, say anything," he reported. "Party of the decade, major announcement, highly-anticipated – that's fuckin' bullshit," he commented, looking up over the screen. "It's an hour old."

"So..." Frank poked at his own com. "Someone's planning something?"

"Someone's _pulling_ something," Mikey corrected, spinning himself around to fire up his terminal. He docked his com into it, bringing up a screen Frank hadn't seen before and selecting an option that blacked out the screen entirely before popping out a new data capsule. Mikey scrolled through it, frowning, and Frank jumped as the door slammed shut across the room. "Got it," Mikey said at last, and punched something into his com.

For a long moment, nothing at all happened, but then the low hum of music from the audio speakers was interrupted by a crackle of static that hissed and popped and turned into a song. A song Frank recognized; he sat up straighter, bouncing his knee along to Mad Gear's yelling.

The swirl of the riff crashed into the end of the song, and there was a beat of silence before a voice came in, "That was our very own Mad Gear and the Missile Kid – but you don't need me to tell you that, spacebabies. We're gonna cue up another scream-along for all you Lane-jumpers out there, but before we head-bang our way outta this gravity well, the Supernova crew asked me to let all you pretty faces know they lucked into a tasty tanker treat, so they are open for business tonight. This one's by way of a request from our very own Show Pony..."

"...the hell." Frank startled a little as another song pounded out of the speakers in a storm of drumming.

"It's harder to pick up dirtside," Mikey said imperturbably. "They move about a bunch, but, you know."

"What, that's... fuck." Frank couldn't decide if he was impressed, or scared shitless. Or both, fucking simultaneously. "Is that _radio_?" That was, like, Ark technology.

"Pirate radio." Mikey huffed out a tiny laugh, one toe twitching in time with the driving beat. "Hold up, I'm gonna consult the hivemind," he muttered, fingers flickering over his com screen.

"Aren't they, like, afraid someone could be listening?" Frank had to ask, curious. It wasn't like the Council or whoever would go around bugging teenagers' bedrooms, probably, but monitoring network traffic? That had to be a no-brainer.

"'s encrypted," Mikey pointed out, like he was reading Frank's mind again. "You gotta, uh, have the key."

"Gee showed me the comm board," Frank pointed out helpfully, trying to crane his neck unobtrusively to see Mikey's screen. Mikey just snorted, angling it further away, and flicked out a message. "Who are you talking to?" Frank wanted to know; Mikey ignored him, so he huffed and pulled out his own com, scrolling through his messages. Boring, boring, Aunt Rosa's birthday, marketing, Gerard – wait. Frank stabbed at the untitled message capsule, popping it open.

_There's PKs all over the place here. Security overload._

Frank relayed this to Mikey, on the basis that it couldn't do any harm, but Mikey just twitched an eyebrow like, _duh_. Frank rolled his eyes back, because what, Gerard was Mikey's brother, okay, and listened to the new song that was playing. It was unfamiliar, short and hard and bouncy, and he wasn't quite sure with all the interference, but it sounded kinda old. Once it faded out into a loop of guitar and cymbals, the deep drawl of the voice-over dude crackled back over the speaker.

"That was, of course, the Souls. All you true believers out there, keep your wits and your blasters about you, because the Kobra Kid's smellin' fish down by the old river. Any of you runners got a tip for catchin' a juicy one, reel 'em on in. But first – here's the _Liberty Fly_ to get you in the danger zone."

_Kobra Kid?_ Frank thought incredulously, loud enough that Mikey glanced up from his screen. Frank was about to ask if that was really his dorky codename, and what the hell was with the fish, but his com jumped again with another message from Gerard, _It's starting._ That sounded... not good. Frank wondered where Gerard was, that he could be messaging while whatever big event was going on; was he backstage, hiding in the bathroom, typing under the table?

"My dad used to play this," Frank commented, staring down at the screen in case Gerard messaged him again. Should he be replying, or would that draw attention at Gerard's end, if he'd forgotten to mute it again? He didn't know.

"It's a cool song," was all Mikey said, swinging so arrhythmically in his chair that Frank wanted to punch him to make the creaking stop. Thankfully, he stilled as the voice-over came in again over the end of the track.

"Got a code neon here from the Spoilers, who've had to rabbit on outta Ceres space on the screaming edge, running hot and fast from a whole passel o' pigs. Keep your eyes and ears open out there, children; this is Doctor D for Death Defying, riding the 109 to bring you everything wicked sharp in sounds and happenin' news, and _this_ is the Blitz."

"...Fuck." Mikey scrambled around in a flail of pointy knees and elbows, bending over his terminal and starting to type. Frank frowned, catching the sudden serious mood but not quite knowing...

"What's wrong?" he asked, scooting toward the end of the bed. Mikey waved a vague, distracted hand over his shoulder, and Frank shook his head. "Just – fucking explain, dude, okay, this cryptic bullshit and telling me not to get involved is so fucking old."

"What?" Mikey glanced over his shoulder at Frank, brows creased into a tiny frown that cleared almost immediately. "Oh. Gerard." Frank thought he caught the corner of an eye-roll as Mikey turned back to his screen. "It's not like you're not pretty fucking involved, I guess," he said, eventually, one shoulder hitching in a shrug. "If the Peace Keepers are swarming Ceres – there's nothing big there, not on the colonies, but the transfer Station – a bunch of the older Stations like that, further out, they're kind of independent."

"...Oh." Frank settled forward on his elbows, thinking back to the trips he'd made with Rob and Ed, all the Stations they'd passed through on demolition and supply runs for the Fiorellis. "What, you mean they don't do what they're told and shit? Like, disobeying the Council?"

"More like ignoring them, I guess." Mikey sat back in the chair, but Frank could see his shoulders were still tense and tight. "People can look out for themselves, mostly, outside the battery systems. If the Peace Keepers are going–" he fell suddenly silent as the Doctor's voice (dude had the best code-name so far, although Frank secretly thought Gerard's was pretty cool) cut back over the top of the music.

"Upgrade that last one to a code _white white white_ , runners; we're hearin' a whole lot of voices singing the same tune, goes by the name of _crackdown_. The pigs are out, and they're running the hell about, shooting first and there won't be any need for questions, if you get me. Your directive, Lane jumpers, is to sit if you're tight, run if you gotta, and save yourselves 'cause no one else is going to. And on that note – this is Doctor Death Defying, signing off for now. Catch you on the flipside, drifters." The song dissolved into static, backed by the whining rise and fall of a siren, and Mikey waved a hand at the audio system, shutting it abruptly off.

"Fuck," Frank said, then, more urgently, " _Fuck_." He scrambled off the bed, catching his foot in the sheets and almost crashing to the floor. "Mikey, we have to –" He kicked himself free, hopping in place, and snatched up his com when it beeped again.

_Old Man Sato n President Barr talking a lot about safety and harmony and protecting people??_ Gerard's message read. It was followed by another, _Announcing some new partnership_ , and right as Frank finished reading it, a FACT notification capsule popped up at the top of the screen. _Better Living Partnership Announced_ it trilled, managing to imply a whole bunch of exclamation marks despite their invisibility.

"What the fuck," Mikey mumbled; Frank looked up, to see him staring at the same article on his own screen. There was a holopic of a stage draped in black-on-white banners and happy face symbols, the President behind a podium with the Sato Head and Grant Morrison flanking him and the rest of the Council smiling woodenly in the background.

"It's gotta be a distraction," Frank found himself saying, staring at their smooth, blank faces and the creepy emoticon logo thing. There were words, too, _The Future Is_ showing before the people on stage blocked out the rest. "Right? Keep the news focused there, so they can sneak round the back and take out the opposition or what the fuck ever. Right?"

"Like the news isn't all in their pockets." Mikey snorted softly, killing the article and going back to scrolling through the community posts. "Fuck. Couple people've posted they haven't seen any trouble, but..."

"Fuck," Frank echoed, swinging around. "We've gotta do something, right?" Shit, people could be getting fucking killed out there; without the broadcast, there was no way to tell, and just the fact that the broadcasters had signed off had to mean something.

"Do what, Frank?" Mikey cocked his head, like he was asking an honest question, though Frank couldn't pull himself enough together to actually read him; he felt scattered, like his mind was trying to run in a dozen different directions, the urgency tugging at him. He stared back at Mikey, helpless, and Mikey made a sympathetic sort of face, which was mostly just a pulling down of his eyebrows and a twitch of his mouth. "Yeah."

"Fuck." Frank whirled, lashing out mentally at the nearest moveable thing, a big action figure of Holo-verse Sol that was posed on top of Mikey's dresser. It went flying, only to stop dead in mid-air right before it would have hit the wall.

"Break your own shit, dude," Mikey complained, settling the figure back carefully in its place.

"Don't you _care_?" Frank demanded – unfairly, he knew, but it just made Mikey sigh.

"We could go and, fucking, steal a ship and run the Lane queues and get killed taking on the fucking Peace Keepers, yeah. Wouldn't do any good. Save yourself, like the guy said; it'd be the law, if the outer zones had 'em."

"...Shit." That was possibly the most words he'd ever heard Mikey utter in one go, so it had to be fucking important, Frank guessed. He stomped over to the door, pressing his forehead up against it. "I can't fucking deal with this," he muttered; what if Lindsey, or Ray, or that kid from the river cliffs were out there getting chased down and arrested and killed? "We can't just fucking sit here while fuck knows what's happening."

"We don't have much of a choice," Mikey said, dry and bitter-quiet, and Frank gritted his teeth, knowing and hating that he was right. "Oh," Mikey added, as his com buzzed, followed by Frank's, "Gee says they're done up at the Capitol."

"Great," Frank muttered, turning to slump back against the door. "Is he coming back? Should we, uh, message him about...?"

"Huh." Mikey frowned down at the com screen, then turned to examine his terminal. "Better not to risk it, I guess. Not like he can do anything, either, except freak out." He looked over the com screen at Frank, exactly like he'd used to peer over the top of his glasses when they'd been kids, and Frank had a moment of gasping around the suddenness and immediacy of the memories that slammed into him, catching him off balance.

"Stop being fucking right all the time," he managed, and Mikey snorted without humor.

"When you stop being a little shit," he returned, and Frank had his mouth open to snark back when Mikey cocked his head sharply, like he was listening. A flick of his finger turned the audio back up.

At first, Frank thought it was just static, was about to needle Mikey about being trigger happy, but then a voice broke through the crackle, sharper and lighter than the Doctor from before. "–mayday, we've got a Code Rainbow going down in the battery, every kind of shit you can fuckin' imagine hitting the fan right now at the Bell Station. If you're in the vicinity – well, you don't wanna be in the vicinity. This is the _Midtown_ putting out the alert: the _Free River_ is exiting the Lanes at the Bell Station terminus, in fatal collision. Save our fucking souls." The transmission cut abruptly out into silence, gradually overtaken by the slow hiss of static.

It was like all the air in the room had been frozen solid. Frank struggled to breathe around the ache and weight in his chest, his fingers spasming painfully as he clenched them in the fabric of his jeans. "Mikes," he choked out, and Mikey jerked out of his own stillness, turning to stab frantically at the terminal screen. Frank's eyes followed the motion, scanning desperately over the message and news feeds Mikey was bringing up, one after the other, but there was just... 

"Nothing," Mikey muttered, and Frank started over, not even knowing what he could do but needing to do _something_. He stopped mid-step, though, as another movement caught his eye, drawing his attention out through the window to the sky and the sudden bloom of light and flame, silent and distant but bright and terrible enough in that moment to rival the evening sun.

* * *

It was nearly dark when Gerard eventually found them. Ray had turned up shortly after the explosion, pale and sickly looking with Patrick and Luce trailing wide-eyed in his wake, and the five of them were clustered on the verandah steps, watching the intermittent trails of flame streak the sky above. The creak of the door made Frank start, but Mikey just glanced back over his shoulder, face sober and unreadable, as Gerard crossed the decking to join them.

Frank shifted his feet, wondering if he should say something, but Gerard didn't even acknowledge the rest of them, stumbling over to Mikey and pressing his face into his brother's shoulder. The rumpled formal suit he was wearing was something that should have been funny, but Frank couldn't imagine laughing. He leaned against the cool stone of the pillar, one eye on the way Gerard clung to Mikey and the other on the tiny bursts of fire that lit up the sky as debris burned through the atmosphere.

"They're saying terrorist attack," Gerard mumbled eventually, turning his head to blink at Ray, then Frank. "What...?"

"Collision in the Lane," Ray started, then stopped, swallowing hard. Frank pulled in a breath through his nose, letting his mental touch drift outward to include all of them as he told Gerard, as briefly as he could bear to, what they'd heard and pieced together about the _Free River_ 's end. _As far as anyone seems to know, the PKs were chasing them down the Lanes and must have hit them. Both ships went up after dropping out of the Lane._ The fireball had been enough to show that nothing and no one had survived that explosion.

_Fuck_ , Gerard whispered in his mind; Frank pressed his mouth shut in silent agreement, because there really wasn't anything else to say. He kept the link in place, though, and twisted his hand in Gerard's sleeve as they all stood together long into the night, watching the remnants spark and flare and burn out as they fell to the surface.

* * *

"So, when's this grand unveiling thing?"

"Next week," Gerard answered absently, before looking up from his terminal. "Wait. Why?"

"I feel like making a mess." Frank threw himself down into the other chair, kicking his legs up onto Gerard's desk and smirking to himself at the half-indignant, half-sad little noise Gerard made about it. He waggled one foot back and forth as a 'hello', and grinned outright as Gerard crossed his arms.

"You're a fucking menace." _Define 'mess,'_ he added silently, and Frank shrugged carelessly.

_Mayhem. Destruction. Maybe paint bombs,_ he added as the thought occurred to him, and Gerard snorted.

"Right." _Where would you even get paint bombs?_

"Eh, I figure you know where to put your hands on paint, right?" _Leave the blowing shit up to me._ He probably couldn't finagle anything serious, but the Iero Family had a long-standing contract to haul blasting caps out to the Rigel mining colonies; it'd be easy enough, he was sure, to sneak enough for a few low-level charges, if he could talk his way into the warehouse. "Maybe glitter, too. All that–" he waved a lazy hand – "monochrome shit is just asking for a little brightening up, you know?"

"...Frank." Gerard frowned over the desk at him, but despite the worry in the forefront of his mind, Frank could feel that he was hooked, too, the buried need to _do something_ stirring and starting to make itself known. _You'll get yourself fucking arrested, or, or motherfucking_ killed _. We can't – shit, Frankie, it's one thing to sneak runners off-planet. You wanna provoke them, see how much worse they can do?_

"It may have escaped your attention," Frank said mock-gravely, making Gerard's brows hunker down even further, his face all scrunched up and worried and stupid looking. "But I am in fact a telekinetic." He _poked_ the back of Gerard's shoulder to prove his point, and Gerard started so violently that he knocked over his coffee and had to scramble for tissues to soak up the spilled dregs. Biting his lip and carefully not thinking about how fucking adorable Gerard looked with his little distressed pout, Frank got up to help mop away the (tiny) puddle and kinetically punt the damp napkins into the trash. "See?"

"You spilled my _coffee_ ," Gerard accused mournfully; Frank rolled his eyes, collapsing back into the chair.

"There was like, a centimeter. And it was cold, dude." _I'll get you more later, okay, jeez. Tell me what you know about this street party bullshit already._

"You better," Gerard said, twisting sideways in his chair. "I don't think, you know, it's a party, not really. Grant was saying – they're launching a holo channel, or whatever." _I dunno what they're gonna show on it, he hasn't really said._ He fell silent, pulling into himself, and Frank could feel him worrying at that, like a knot of anxiety he was holding tight and close. Frank didn't really get that, and he didn't really like it either, but now wasn't the time or the place to examine too closely the dissatisfaction simmering at the back of his mind. He pushed it back, crushed it down and buried it deep.

_Probably, like, fake documentaries to show how everyone's just so freaking happy._ Frank scowled, then lifted his head, startled, as someone impinged on his awareness, slipping through the door into the outer room and toward Gerard's office. "Fuck –"

"Huh?" Gerard gave him a strange look, then turned to stare at the door a fraction of a second before it slid open to – oh. Frank relaxed, sliding down in his chair, and Mikey gave him a faintly-smug look as he palmed the door closed behind him.

"Hey." Mikey looked around really obviously, then gave a tiny shrug and went to perch on the window sill, stretching out his long skinny legs across the rug. "What's up?"

"Just fucking, discussing this Better Living bullshit." Gerard waved a hand in the air, making a face. "What the hell they're gonna play on their holo channel thing, you know."

"Huh." Mikey examined his nails, where the black lacquer was chipped around the edges. "Not _The Black Saints._ You know TransOrbital got sucked into this partnership thing, right? They're closing the graphics arm, folding all their titles."

"What!" Gerard bolted upright in his chair, mouth open and outraged. "They can't do that!" Frank nodded vehemently in agreement, and Mikey shrugged like he didn't even _care_.

"They did," he pointed out, flat. "Too dark, or something. Not the right fuckin' – image, I guess."

"Mother _fuckers_." Frank clenched his fists by his sides.

"Fuck," Gerard agreed, shoving himself up to pace, one hand tangled in his hair the way he always ended up when he was too distracted to be self-conscious. "Fuck their image. This shit is just –" He didn't finish the sentence, though, stopping mid-stride as his brow furrowed. _Frankie, did you really mean that? About paintbombing their launch party?_

_Like I'd joke about explosions_. Frank smirked when Mikey glanced his way; he was clearly linked closely enough to Gerard to overhear that. _I did six cycles of demolition on the side, Gee. Pretty sure I can figure something out._

"Hell," Mikey cut in, "just hack 'em and play some fuckin' Mad Gear over top. They got their contract dropped, too; pretty sure they'd be all for it."

"What, really?" Frank stared; Mikey just shrugged like it was no big thing. Gerard huffed out a breath.

"How do you even – ugh." He took off pacing again, making a couple of circuits of the room, so deep in his own head now that Frank couldn't catch anything but a vague impression of quick-rolling thoughts. "It's a fucking awesome idea," he said eventually, whirling to stare at Mikey. "How would you pull it off, though? We'd get caught so fucking fast."

"Frank's eletrokinetic," Mikey pointed out coolly, and Frank blinked as both Ways swung round in unison to stare at him. It took him a moment to even process what Mikey was getting at, and then...

"Shit, no chance," he had to say, with not a little regret. "The security'll be – and that stuff's all, like, optic, anyway. I mean, I could maybe knock out a couple of transmitters, but they'd sure as hell be able to tell I did it, you know? Maybe, uh, ask Lindsey?" he hazarded, remembering the way she'd talked about looping the recorders at the spaceport, so long ago.

Gerard snorted. "She _totally_ would. But she's got, uh, stuff – she's busy," he ended, slumping back down in his chair. He seemed... Frank didn't even know, he was still turned inward, hard to read, but it felt as if something was eating at him, deflating and eroding the outrage piece by piece until he was staring at the floor, not meeting either of their eyes. Frank opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but closed it again after a moment, empty of words and aching with it.

"Gee." Mikey shifted, drawing his brother's reluctant attention, and they stared at each other silently for what felt like forever. Frank couldn't see Gerard's face, only the back of his head where his hair was all snarled up and sticking everywhere, but Mikey's eyes were sharp and intense, deeply hooded. Whatever they were saying to each other, or sharing, or remembering, it was clearly not for Frank, and that hurt unexpectedly, like the ghost of seven years' hate he thought he'd buried, rising up now to choke him. He shifted sharply, about to get up from the chair and fucking do something, he didn't even know what, only that he needed to _move_ , but the noise seemed to snap both of the Ways out of it, Gerard flinging himself back up to his feet instead.

"I don't – I can't _risk_..."

"You can," Mikey said with certainty, and Frank bit at the sides of his cheeks, swallowing the persistent urge to kiss that terrible, helpless expression off Gerard's stupid face.

"Gee," he said instead – distraction, motherfucker – "I know I don't have the full picture, but – you're gonna have to decide sometime, you know? Whether you're in or you're not. Weren't you the one saying how we should all be able to, fucking, express ourselves and shit?" he added, and Gerard visibly flinched, looking down at his feet. His shields were cracked, and Frank could _feel_ the desire in him to run out of there, drown himself in the hardest liquor he could find. " _Gee_ ," he said again, insistent, and Gerard made an unhappy, tortured sound.

"You're gonna fucking get us all killed," he protested, but it was weak, and after a second he took a breath, less shaky, and scrubbed his hair back off his face. "Shit. Fine. Okay. What do you wanna do?"

* * *

Frank was twitching so bad from impatience and the people who kept shoving up against him that Ray had already asked, twice, if he needed the bathroom or something. He wanted to push back, fight the crush with his elbows and knees, but this wasn't a show, and if he started trouble here he'd blow their whole fucking plan sky-high. The Peace Keepers were everywhere, white jackets and white holsters and white fucking masks too, which were freaking Frank out; it was hard not to flinch and reflexively check his shields every time his eyes crossed one of their stupid cartoon-smooth faces.

"Look," Ray nudged him, jerking his head over toward the steps of the Capitol and the microphones and screens that had been set up there. "There's Gerard and Mikey."

"Where?" Frank demanded, bouncing up on his toes to try and see over the clump of tall assholes in front of him, but all he caught was a brief glimpse of Grant Morrison's bald head and a flash of black that was probably Gerard. Well, or Mikey; they were both bundled up in identical black peacoats over their stupid suits. Frank was fucking grateful he'd been able to get away with jeans and a couple of hoodies; he blended right in, _and_ he didn't look like an idiot.

_Who're you calling an idiot,_ Gerard grumbled in the back of his head; Frank ducked his head, the corner of his mouth twitching up, and didn't bother answering that.

_How's it going up there?_ he asked instead, reaching out across the link to place Gerard and, through him, Mikey. He'd spent the first half-hour trying to follow Mikey mentally, but the masked Peace Keepers had made him paranoid, and anyway, as much as Frank hated to admit it, Mikey was better than him when it came to telekinesis. The shift and flex of his mind as he'd slid and pressed Frank's homemade arsenal into position had been so subtle that Frank had got hopelessly lost trying to keep track; in the end he'd given up and made Ray give him a piggyback ride until the crowd had got thick enough that he'd had to slide back down to defend his space.

_Boring,_ Gerard told him; when Frank pushed up onto his toes again, he thought Gerard was looking his way. He and Mikey were sat off to the side of the stage in the VIP area, surrounded by stiff dignitaries and blank-faced holo presenters, special guests of the Morrisons. Or Grant, anyway; who was on the other side of the stage now, offering an arm to – oh, Ms Sato. There was a stir of interest from the crowd as she stepped up onto the stage, and a couple of the Peace Keepers who were lining the Capitol steps shifted uneasily. The holo operators were moving their recorders into position.

_Is it starting?_ Frank demanded, grabbing Ray's sleeve to try and haul himself up further. Why was everyone on this planet fucking taller than him?

_You are kinda short,_ Gerard mused, which, really? Frank blew him a mental raspberry, accompanied by an image of his extended middle finger, and carefully ignored the way his stomach tightened, hot, when Gerard giggled in his mind. _I think they're still setting up_ , Gerard continued, oblivious to the balancing act Frank was engaged in as he tried to keep that sharp wanting part of himself closed off from Gerard, and their link locked safely under the outer layers of his shields, away from the prying minds of the Peace Keeper telepaths.

_There's a fuckton of white faces around_ , he told Gerard. _I can't fucking see a thing any more; nudge me or something if any of the fuckers are looking this way?_

_You're fine_ , Gerard told him back, and Frank could feel him scanning the crowd, picking out Ray's head (he'd _tried_ to squash his hair under a hat, but it hadn't been entirely successful). Gerard obligingly pulled him closer, letting Frank _see_ through his eyes for a few seconds of bizarre double vision. It was worse than he'd thought; the Peace Keepers and security drones were like a white wall around the edges of the square, two and three deep at the exits.

_Fuck_. Frank pulled back into his own head, fidgeting nervously with the rubber mask in his pocket. _If this takes much longer, we'll be fucked_ , he muttered to Gerard, staggering into Ray when the crowd pushed in toward the stage.

_I think... yeah, no, they're starting,_ Gerard came back after a moment, and Frank felt it, the sudden hush that fell over the crowd. There was some music playing from up front, quiet and utterly fucking bland, and Frank caught a glimpse, before someone pushed him aside again, of Ms Sato standing at the podium with a fake plastic smile plastered across her face. A voice, flat and synthetic-sounding, was counting down from ten, and the numerals were flashing up, huge and black, on the screens behind her. _Three, two,_ Frank found himself counting silently along, and the sudden flash of lights at zero, recorder flash scattering across the square, made him flinch so hard he slammed into Ray's side.

"Whoa," Ray mouthed, inaudible over the cheering, grasping worriedly at Frank's shoulder. He'd been skeptical of the whole thing, at first; Frank had felt kind of guilty about involving him at all, but they'd needed his clearance codes to get anywhere near the spaceport. Bizarrely, it had been Gerard who'd convinced him, the fervor in his eyes as he expounded about artistic freedom drilling right into Frank's bones until he was sure he'd have gone anywhere Gerard led, followed him into any fight. Breaking into a warehouse his Family owned anyway was the least of it.

"I'm fine!" Frank shouted back, but it was a lost cause; he couldn't even hear his own voice as the music flared into a crescendo. Ms Sato was holding one hand up, calling for silence, but it took a while before she could speak.

"Friends, welcome." She sounded just like she did on the news holos, smooth and controlled. "It is my privilege today to present to you the debut of the most exciting facet of the Better Living partnership, through which the Council, with the cooperation of some of our most established and prestigious Families, hopes to promote positive futures and enrich the lives of every member of civilization." A brief murmur of cheering that died quickly when she continued. "Peace, co-operation, and progress are virtues to which we can all aspire, and through which we can move forward to a future where everyone can be safe and productive and free."

_My ass_ , Gerard muttered in Frank's head; Frank snorted, sending agreement back across the link.

"In the spirit of these virtues, therefore," Ms Sato announced, "I am honored to announce the grand opening of the Better Living Network – three dedicated holo channels to bring you the programming you want, and the information you need, to be a part of the beautiful future we're all creating." She paused, so clearly anticipating the cheers that Frank had to wonder just how many of the audience were plants. They'd got in early, and even then the square had been half full with the guards checking ID at all the barriers.

"I now call upon Secretary Silver of the Cultural Ministry to formally inaugurate the Better Living Network and begin the broadcast." Ms Sato smiled, sharp and grotesque, and stepped aside, applauding politely as one of the officials stepped up from the row of chairs. Frank ducked his head, surreptitiously checking the time on his com. Less than a minute to noon; he'd programmed the timers to blow then, since rumor and what little Gerard had been able to wheedle out of Morrison – and there was a mental image Frank didn't ever want to have again – put the official unveiling or switch-on or whatever at that point on the schedule.

_What –_ Gerard started, and Frank stopped breathing, scrambled for something, anything, to distract him.

_Any minute now,_ he blurted, scrabbling to tuck everything else, every ache of want and swell of lust and biter scrap of jealousy, inside his deepest and darkest shields where Gerard would never stumble across them. _Fuck, how long's this asshole gonna drone on? If he fucks up the timing I'm gonna fucking shoot him_.

_You don't have a fucking gun_ , Gerard pointed out, but Frank could feel his attention retreating. _Yeah, here we go..._

There was a blare of music when the Silver guy hit the button, and an explosion of applause and cheers that made Frank flinch. The huge screens suspended from the Capitol building flickered to life, the creepy blank smile logo disappearing into giant views of the stage and the smug fucking faces of the Council members and Heads up there. Frank caught a single glimpse of Gerard, to the side of the holo with his face too-obviously blank, and just had time to freak out that their plan had failed, or been discovered, _fuck_ , before the giant holo screens fizzed out into a deafening storm of static.

_Here we go!_ Frank grabbed for Ray's sleeve, staring, and then suddenly there was just chaos, a succession of rapid-fire _pop-pop-pop_ as his charges blew, one after the other like projectile blasts, drowned by the screams of the crowd as the business drones and politicians on the stage ducked and cowered from burst after crescendoing burst of paint and smoke and glitter. Frank had rigged the poppers for maximum showiness and only moderate force, relying on Mikey to tuck them out of major harm's way; Gerard had contributed the red and blue and yellow pigments and dyes that splattered wildly across everyone on the stage.

_Fuck_ , Gerard complained; Frank could feel him wiping wetness from his own face, ducking behind Mikey, and had to choke back a giddy laugh, letting the panicked crowd carry him away. He got a brief, vivid image, through Gerard, of Grant Morrison's face contorted into a furious snarl and dripping with blue paint, and clutched at Ray to keep himself upright because he was going to _die_.

Somewhere very distant, an amplified voice was appealing for calm, but the crowd was beyond hearing; people were stampeding for the exits, and Frank had a flash of cold panic as someone slammed into his side, ripping him away from Ray. This was worse than a pit; there was no beat to rule his limbs, and the mass of bodies buffeted him from side to side as he tried to keep his footing. He could hear the sirens, now, the Peace Keepers descending, and Frank felt his eyes widen as he realized that he'd left it too late. He should have got the hell out of here way before it all went down, but he'd wanted to watch, and now here he was separated from the guys, probably shining like a torch with explosives residue despite the showers he'd taken. All they had to do was bring in the scopes...

_Fuck_. Frank swallowed, ducking his head and yanking his hood as far over his face as he could, reaching out around himself with his senses to keep his bearings. _Gee? Gerard! What's going on?_

_Frankie?_ Gerard's voice faded out, then strengthened. _Where are you? It's a fucking mess out there._

_You're telling me._ Frank gritted his teeth as another taller, heavier person slammed into him, and pushed back, jabbing with his shoulders and elbows to make a space to move into. _I lost Ray, think he'll be okay though. You and Mikey?_

_Fine_ , Gerard returned shortly. _They're getting us outta here first, looks like. Which way are you headed? I'll see if I can find a shuttle..._

_Forward_ , Frank gritted out, _I can't – fuck!_ Someone's arm slammed into his stomach, driving all the air out of him, and he staggered sideways, wheezing, right into... oh _fuck_ , there was a wall of white uniform filling his vision.

"Stay back!" the Peace Keeper barked robotically – it was a woman, and Frank had nearly gone face-first into her armored tits, which might even have been funny if she hadn't swiveled her head to look at him, her eyes widening as she took in his ducked heard and shadowed face.

_Fuck_ , Frank thought blankly, forgetting Gerard, forgetting the crowd, forgetting even that he was still trying to breathe. He could see her lips shaping the words, _stop there_ , but the sudden thunder of his heart in his ears blocked all sound as she went for her gun.

A lot of things flashed before his eyes – his mom's face, Dad's, Gerard's. Everything slowed down as the barrel of the gun cleared the holster, white metal charred black around the mouth, and Frank tried desperately to make himself move, but his legs were made of lead, stuck to the floor like the gravity had failed and they'd been forced to mag down to the deck. Except he wasn't on a ship, he was on the ground, and he was going to die right here, right now.

Time slammed back into him with the force of a nuclear strike when someone toppled into the Peace Keeper from behind, arms and legs windmilling and making her stagger and stumble. Frank _pushed_ at her legs, sending her feet skidding out from under her (and praying his mom never heard about this), and _yanked_ the weapon out of her hand with a thread of telekinetic force. It was heavy and warm in his hand; he clutched it and ran, shoving people carelessly aside with his mind, racing for the nearest way out.

He never made it; a security drone loomed across the barrier as Frank burst out of the throng, and he stumbled to a halt, staring down at the ground as he felt for an escape route. The Peace Keepers were clustered over by the gate, waving people through the scanners; if he could jump the barrier, Frank thought wildly, backing up, he could run for it...

"Don't move!" A clatter of running feet was coming up from behind; Frank swallowed, raising the gun in shaky hands and taking aim as best he could. He'd expected a kick, but there was none, just a tingle of vibration as he pulled the trigger and the beam shot out of the barrel. The security drone tumbled back, a sparking hole charred through its shoulder, and suddenly everyone was screaming and running, the crowd surging back away from him. Frank started for the barrier, but jerked aside frantically as a beam hissed past him, so close that he felt the heat against his ear, smelled the ozone stink of burnt air.

_Shit._ There was nowhere else to go; Frank took a deep breath, swallowed his heart back down, and bolted for the barrier, hitting it at waist height and tumbling over to lie gasping on the cold permacrete, the sky wide and winter-blue in his eyes. It was only a temporary reprieve, though, and no kind of barrier at all to blaster shot, so he forced himself to scramble back to his feet, feeling all the places where he was scraped and raw, and push into a run. Now would definitely be a good time to have learned Mikey's fucking teleportation trick, Frank thought faintly, _shoving_ hard and blind behind himself when someone hit his extended senses. Another laser beam sliced by him, taking a chunk out of the sleeve of his hoodie, and he swallowed a moan, lungs burning, driving his feet onward.

_Frank! Frankie, this way!_

Gerard. Where? Frank couldn't _see_ ; he dodged, hissing in pain, as another blast singed way too close to his side. Warning shots; they must want him alive. _Gee!_ he all but shouted, reaching for the link, and the relief when Gerard reached back, locking their minds together in a whirl of white knuckles and determination, had Frank almost sobbing.

_Come on!_ Gerard urged, and then there was a high whine zipping overhead, downdraft staggering him as the shuttle slewed around, and the hatch was open, and Frank was jumping before he could think.

"Got you!" Gerard's voice echoed in his mind; his hand fisted in the back of Frank's hoodie, dragging him into the shuttle and kicking the hatch shut and the drive into gear. The acceleration pressed what was left of his breath out of Frank's burning lungs, and his body back against the cushion of the seat and Gerard's chest where he was half slumped over him. "Frankie, Frankie, are you okay? Did they hit you? Fuck, here they come, sit up, let me steer!"

"Fuck," Frank choked out, snapping for breath, and struggled to pull himself up until he was marginally upright, shoving his hood up over his sweaty forehead. "What are you – where are – did you _steal_ this?!"

"Maybe?" Gerard made an entirely non-explanatory twirly gesture before hastily putting his hand back onto the controls, swerving as a laser beam zapped past the hull. He'd wiped the paint off his face, but his hair was still neon-red and stringy with it, Frank noticed inanely. "Fuck, they're shooting at us!"

"No shit!" Frank scrambled around in his seat, peering out of the back window and feeling his heart sink in his chest. "Two shuttles," he reported grimly. "Light, not much firepower maybe – fuck!" he bit out, barely avoiding slamming his head against the side bulkhead as Gerard swerved wildly again. "Motherfucker, drive fucking faster!"

"Fuck you!" Gerard flailed one hand, shuffling around on the seat in a bizarre dance that had Frank wondering if he'd been shot, or fucking electrocuted or something, until he managed to drag his com out of his back pocket. "You fucking do it, then!" he yelled, fisting a hand in Frank's hoodie and yanking him across his lap.

"Shit!" Frank threw out his hands to try and steady himself, almost sending them into a catastrophic spin when he accidentally smacked the controls. He grabbed for them, feet scrabbling and sliding against the slick upholstery as he squirmed across Gerard, trying to reach the power levers. "Fucking move, you moron!"

"I'm trying!" With a grunt and a heave, Gerard managed to slither out from under Frank, tipping himself into the passenger seat. "Fuck, now there's three up our ass. Head – uh, north-east? Yeah."

"The mountains?" It was as good a direction as any, so Frank turned the dial and jammed the levers forward, gunning the drive as hard as he dared, heading up and out of the city. "You better fuckin' know where you're going, man," he managed, all of his attention now on the airspace around them, the drag against the hull and the incoming burn of laser fire. It was almost like flying for real, navigating the Lanes by the seat of his pants, except there was less risk of the seat of his pants getting _shot_ in the fucking Lanes, and also ships were made for that shit. This fucking piece of crap shuttle was starting to shudder and creak already, and they were barely a few thousand meters up.

"Just a little further," Gerard reported breathlessly over his shoulder, his neck craned to stare out the window. "You can do it, Frankie, c'mon."

"Fuck," Frank muttered, then swerved violently, almost spinning right out of control as a massive shadow dropped down over them, returning a volley of laser fire at the pursuing Peace Keepers. "What the _shit_ –" He started to turn the controls, trying to escape, but Gerard reached over, grabbing his hands. His skin was hot, Frank realized stupidly, burning up with the same desperate glee that shone in his eyes.

"No, Frankie, they're ours, they're friends, come on–"

"Mother. Of. _Fuck_." Frank took frantic stock – shuttle engines starting to whine and fail, not built for this shit and pushed beyond endurance; Peace Keepers on their tail and talking with their guns; giant fucking space ship and the imminent lack of airspace as the mountains ahead started to rise up in the viewscreen – and made a snap decision, wrenching the controls back the other way. "Tell 'em to prime the fucking docking hatch!" he snapped at Gerard, before he had to grit his teeth and shut out everything but the jerk and shiver of the shuttle under his hands as he fought them through the massive slipstream, latching onto the bigger ship with his senses and holding grimly on. Match velocity – fuck, that was harder than it had ever been, every twitch of the air slapping him back. Only a complete fucking maniac would try this in atmo – and there was the fucking dock hatch, he could _see_ it...

The clamps engaged with a bang that echoed through the cabin, and Frank slammed the drive over into shutdown, already scrambling out of the pilot seat. "Come on, we're sitting fucking ducks!" He could feel the deep thrum of the big ship's atmosphere engines working, gaining altitude fast now, and it made his hands shake as he punched at the airlock seal, hitting the auto override and piling through with Gerard so close behind that he landed on top of Frank, knocking all the air out of him, when they hit the deck.

"Well," a voice observed after a long moment, so familiar that Frank had to blink his eyes clear just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. Jamia looked back at him – upside down, because he was, or at least Frank was pretty sure – and quirked one eyebrow. "This is a surprise."

* * *

Possibly the worst thing, Frank concluded while Gerard worked himself up into a thoroughly righteous rant of explanation, waving his hands so wildly in the confined space of the cabin lounge that he almost smacked Lindsey in the head and didn't even notice, was that Jamia clearly wasn't sorry _at all_ for not telling him she'd run off to join the fucking space pirates. She just smirked at him when he complained, and pointed out that he hadn't told her shit, either, which Frank couldn't argue with despite really wanting to.

"And then they started fucking _shooting_ at us!" Gerard declared, like it had been an insult or something rather than an attempt on their lives, and Frank choked back a giggle at the indignant outrage clear in his face and his mind.

"Their fucking _faces_ though," he contributed, snickering as he remembered that image of Grant Morrison, glaring through the paint and glitter that dripped down his face and his stupid shirt ruffles. "It was _epic_."

"Yeah, we caught the broadcast before they shut it off." Lindsey pushed off the cabin wall, dragging out her com and flipping up a picture – fuck. Frank snorted, the laughter bubbling up, and doubled over his knees, giggling helplessly at the sight of Old Man Sato's face slack and wide-mouthed as a ball of glitter exploded against the side of his head. Once he'd started he couldn't quite seem to stop, all the stress and tension of the chase and that moment of staring his death in the face coming out in choking gusts of emotion. He sagged against Gerard's side, laughing and laughing as Gerard started explaining to Jamia, with lots of wildly outraged hand-waving, how the Peace Keepers had chased and shot at them "for _real_ , not even warning shots, can you believe this shit?!" and dragging at the sleeve of Frank's hoodie to display the charred edges of the hole. Fuck, Frank couldn't stop laughing; his heart felt swollen like a star about to burst, a ridiculous miniature supernova of _holy fuck I love you_ in his chest.

Gerard stopped mid-word, freezing beside him, and Frank felt his laughter dry up so suddenly his lungs seized, the supernova collapsing into a black hole. No, fuck – he tried to pull back, restore his shields, but Gerard's tentative brush against his mind stopped him cold.

_Frankie?_ Gerard exhaled an unsteady breath, mental voice tiny, and when Frank made himself look up, he was staring back, eyes wide and green and –

"Ohhhhkay." Distantly, Frank was aware of Jamia pushing off the couch beside him, moving toward the door. "We're just gonna go... somewhere else, yeah." There was a hiss of air as the door opened, the clank of their boots on the deck; Frank wanted to follow, to pull away from Gerard and run away, run as far and as fast as he could, but he was frozen.

_Frank_ , Gerard whispered in the back of his mind. Frank could feel his disbelief, but he held fast when Frank tried to wrench out of the link. _No, don't._ Gerard pressed closer, deepening the link, and Frank felt his eyes stretch impossibly wider as barriers he hadn't even known existed fell away, and... _oh._

_Frank_ , Gerard said his name again, and Frank was drowning in him, in a depth and strength of feeling that stole his breath. His own wavering barriers dissolved entirely, everything he'd been trying to ignore and suppress finally out in the open, and he had his hands in Gerard's hair before he even knew what he was doing, pulling him down to fit their mouths together.

The touch was electric; Frank _felt_ Gerard's eyelids fluttering shut, the groan that was caught in his throat, the heat of his own skin under Gerard's hands as they settled on his shoulders, pulling him closer. He went eagerly, parting his lips to invite Gerard's tongue in and shuddering as they touched. Feeling it so completely from both sides was overwhelming; Frank was halfway into Gerard's lap before he even knew he was moving, and when he hesitated Gerard pulled him the rest of the way, hands clutching at his hips and fingers sliding up under his layers of hoodies to reach skin.

_Oh, shit._ Frank had to break the kiss to pant for breath, dizzy; he pulled on Gerard's hair to tip his head back, pressing his mouth into the thin skin under the angle of his jaw and feeling Gerard's gasp shiver through his own throat. _Shit, Gee–_

_Frankie, Frankie, yeah_ , Gerard was chanting mentally, shuddering as Frank worked his mouth against his pulse, scraping with his teeth then flicking out his tongue to taste. That made him buck, and it was fucking awesome to feel that kick of arousal echo through them both; Frank was instantly hard as a fucking rock, hips twitching with it, and he jerked helplessly when the too-tight front of his jeans brushed against the bulge in Gerard's stupid formal pants.

"Fuck," Gerard gasped, heaving up, and everything was just a blur of motion as he twisted and shoved Frank down on his back on the couch, lowering himself over him. It was the fucking hottest thing Frank had ever seen, ever felt; he was suddenly sure this was going to be over really fucking fast, but he couldn't care, not with Gerard grinding down against him and licking back into his mouth, eager and hungry. Frank thrust back up, thighs falling helplessly apart, hands gripping and tugging at Gerard's back as he tried impossibly to get closer, and let the wave build and build between them until it broke and he bit down hard on Gerard's lower lip, body jerking helplessly with the pulses of orgasm that rolled through him. Through both of them, because Gerard groaned like he was dying and followed him over the edge, like one blast triggering the next, like a chain reaction of awesome, breath mingling and bodies shaking in time.

It seemed like it took a really long time for his brain to come back online, after. Frank wasn't entirely sure, to be honest; it was possible he'd actually passed out, or like, temporarily left his body or something, from all the amazingness.

_Fuck_ , Gerard mumbled quietly in his mind; he was heavy, flopped half on top of Frank, and just as limp and blissed out as Frank felt. Frank wrapped his arms around him, tight, and squirmed until he could mostly breathe, and just fucking basked in the warm tingle of afterglow and the quiet intimacy of Gerard's mind snugged up tight to his.

_...I guess we don't really need to do the whole, how much telepathic contact is okay with you, thing_ , was the first real thought he managed to form, and Gerard laughed silently in his head, turning his face to kiss Frank's jaw clumsily.

_I want everything,_ he murmured, a tinge of apology coloring his tone. _I'm greedy that way._

_Do you see me complaining?_ Frank stretched a little, pulling a face at the sticky mess in his pants that was starting to make itself known, and turned until he could catch Gerard's mouth with his, licking apologetically at the puffy mark he'd made. He could feel that the tender throb made Gerard shudder, so he did it again, gleeful when Gerard groaned and pressed up against him. His cock twitched interestedly, right on the edge of too-much-too-soon and simultaneously kind of gross because ew, sticky, and kind of awesome with the way it made Gerard inhale and clutch at him. A couple more minutes, Frank realized, and he was totally going to want to go again – and maybe even get some nudity up in here, since Gerard was still wearing his damn suit.

_I like that idea, but you're the one wearing too many fucking clothes_ , Gerard pointed out, tugging at Frank's hoodies.

_Yeah?_ Frank wriggled until he could tip himself backward invitingly, spreading out on the couch and grinning up at Gerard. _What're you gonna do about it?_

* * *

There wasn't any question about going back, of course, even if Frank not-so-secretly wished they could just get up and leave for real, tag along for the ride with Jamia and Lindsey's little skeleton crew of runners and see where they ended up. He knew even as he was thinking it that it was impossible; there was Mikey, for a start, and Ray and the others. Both their Families. Responsibilities that might chafe but tied them down nevertheless.

It fucking sucked, but the worst part of all was that all the security alerts and surveillance (their own fault, which was just crushingly ironic and unfair) left them with no choice but to slip back in under the radar – separately. It _hurt_ to leave Gerard, because there was a part of Frank that knew it could be weeks or cycles until they saw each other again. Gerard felt it too, and he clung so tightly to Frank's hand as they were waiting for Kitty to prep the lander that their bones creaked and ached as though they were trying to fuse together.

Eventually, though, Frank had to make himself pull away before his time ran out entirely. He still kept his eyes closed and his thoughts wrapped around Gerard's for as long as he could, before the ship's shields swallowed him up and the bounce and shudder of re-entry demanded his attention. Kitty dropped him off on the edge of the City, gliding the lander in and setting it down so neatly in the narrow strip of space between two Way-owned warehouses that Frank was almost, briefly, jealous.

"Hey, so –" he started, turning toward her as he unstrapped himself from the harness; he'd meant to ask her how long they'd be sticking around, but she shook her head, one eye on the chrono panel.

"No time, the envelope'll expire in five, and not even the Kid'll be able to hide us then. Jump to it," she nudged at his shoulder, and Frank jumped, grabbing the bag Jamia had loaned him and scrambling out onto the cracked permacrete. "Give him my regards!" Kitty called after him, already cycling the hatch closed. Frank backed up hastily to let her take off, figuring she must mean Mikey since he'd been the one to map the new surveillance drone patterns as well as fuzz them off the tower scanners.

She was gone in seconds, the tiny craft arrowing up through the clouds in a long spiral, and Frank knew he had to be too; the cover for him being here was thin enough without any human or mechanical eyes catching sight of him. Just because there wasn't anyone obviously around – this sprawl of peeling industrial buildings, closer to the all-but-disused Pomona road than the city proper, was as near abandoned as made no difference, but that didn't mean shit, so Frank kept his eyes peeled and senses spread out, mapping the planes and angles of storage units and parking plazas as he jogged toward the main street and its transit stop. Scanning his ID to request a pod made Frank's skin crawl, like hundreds of eyes were suddenly focused on his back, and the monotone "Accepted," of the drone voice when he gave his destination as House Iero set his teeth on edge. Fuck only knew what was actually happening out there; his news feed, as he scanned through it on the journey, was full of sober warnings about terrorist activity and security threats, which seemed like kind of an overreaction to a bit of paint and glitter. Every turn of the pod, every vehicle that passed, made Frank hold his breath for a second; when he finally climbed out, the compound gates at the end of the street were simultaneously a promise of sanctuary and a prison reaching to swallow him. If he dragged his feet past the Fernandes' place, orange walls newly painted over in blinding white, there was no one out on the street to see.

" _There_ you are." Grandma shuffled out of the front parlor at the sound of the door, her face creased in worry and relief. Frank winced and let her hug him, hoping that his borrowed clothes and empty backpack weren't as obvious as he thought they were. "We were expecting you yesterday, after that announcement. You should have called, honey; with all this going on, we were worried something had happened to you."

_Ha._ Frank bit his tongue, trying to look chagrined and and remorseful and generally like a totally innocent guy who'd been busy working while everything went to shit and didn't quite get what was going on. "Uh, yeah, I was kinda, you know, I got stuck finishing stuff up at the Ways' for a bit. Gerard was, like, caught in whatever that whole thing up at the Capitol was, I guess, so it's been kinda crazy."

"Oh, no." Grandma pulled back, hand over her mouth. "Is he okay? Should I call Donna?"

"He's fine!" Frank blurted, waving his hands hastily to head that one off. "He's awesome! Just, busy. At the Morrisons'," he added, as an afterthought; that had, apparently, been the excuse Mikey had given his parents for Gerard's disappearance. Hearing that argument through Gerard's head had been kind of a weird experience. "Um, Grandma, I'm gonna head up and grab some sleep, yeah?"

"Up late?" Grandma nodded sympathetically, and Frank swallowed a giveaway giggle because, well, yeah. "I'll let your mother know you made it here; she's been worried, too. I think she'd have come over, but with everyone short-staffed, she's been so busy."

Shit. "I'll call her later," Frank promised – hell, it wasn't like he wouldn't have the time, if he was going to be stuck here for however long this 'state of emergency' was supposed to last – and managed to manufacture a vaguely believable yawn that had Grandma shooing him upstairs.

Being back in his old room, again, was just sad. Frank could almost have believed that the whole thing had been some fucked up dream, if not for the pull of abused muscles, the faint sting of the laser blasts that had come too close, the memory of Gerard's mouth burned into his flesh. He reached out automatically as he flopped onto the bed, smiling at the tiny sunburst-feeling of happiness that bled over as Gerard pushed back into the connection.

_Hey_ , Frank whispered – the link was still patchy with shielding and interference, where Gerard was in transit, and his surface thoughts were squirmy with embarrassment. _Is J trying to compare notes?_ Frank teased; the feel of Gerard blushing was even more adorable than his stupid giggle in the back of Frank's head.

_Adorable? Not hot?_ Gerard tried for indignation, but the warm happiness that curled between them made the pretense too obvious. Frank sent him a burst of love-heat-desire anyway, smiling at the memories.

_So fucking hot, Gee._ He tried to _show_ Gerard how he looked to him, lingering over his stupid pointy nose that Frank wanted to bite, his crooked mouth that was constantly begging to be kissed, the pale notch of his shoulder and the way his stupid tight pants clung so amazingly to his ass and thighs...

_I don't look like that,_ Gerard protested, and, squirming, _oh my god, Frankie, you're gonna –_

_What?_ Frank pushed, smirking into his pillow. _Turn you on? Get you hard? Right there while J's driving you home, with no way to hide it?_

_You're fucking evil_ , Gerard grumbled, and Frank cracked up, flailing over onto his back and giggling at the familiar ceiling.

_What, you only just noticed?_

_Shut up_ , Gerard huffed back, _we're nearly home. Oh, fuck, there's Peace Keepers._

_What?_ That killed Frank's laughter; he bolted upright, even though he already knew there was fuck-all he could actually do. Not at this distance, shit, why had he agreed to split up? It was the worst fucking idea –

_Don't even think about running out here_ , Gerard told him, the fear that blossomed like creeping ice crystals far stronger suddenly, stealing Frank's breath. _It's fine, Jimmy said this shuttle hasn't been reported stolen, look, they aren't even paying any attention. Relax, Frankie._

_Fuck_. Frank huffed out a breath, collapsing back. How was he supposed to fucking relax, when he was here and Gee was there? Two and a half kilometers, and they might as well be on opposite sides of the galaxy.

_I wonder if we could still talk from opposite sides of the galaxy?_ Gerard mused in the back of his head; Frank could feel that he was actually considering it, even while he was saying goodbye to Jamia and hurrying through the gates. What a fucking dork, Frank thought affectionately; Gerard huffed and mentally poked at him. _Can't you feel it, Frankie? It's different now. Deeper, or something._

_Uh-huh._ He was right; it was as though something they'd done, kissing or fucking or even just letting their barriers down so completely, had hard-wired the connection somehow. Frank could probably close it off, he thought, if he tried; maybe even shut it down more or less permanently, though he couldn't really imagine actually wanting to. It felt right, easy, good.

_You know, technically we haven't actually fucked_ , Gerard pointed out thoughtfully, with a flash of imagery that made Frank gasp, his dick twitching and heat spreading through his stomach. _Yet_ , Gerard added archly; Frank groaned.

_Don't say that shit when I can't touch you until god knows when_ , he thought desperately, and was rewarded with a delighted giggle. _Fucking – seriously, Gee, our timing blows._

_Mm._ Gerard's thoughts withdrew from his, a little, and not without regret. If he concentrated, Frank could feel him talking to someone – oh, Mehdi. And Ms Way, Frank realized when Gerard squirmed a little as she hugged him and exclaimed in horror over the red still staining his hair. Frank thought it was hot, but moms would be moms, he guessed. That made Gerard snort.

_I'm gonna have to send a fucking shitload of messages_ , he told Frank regretfully. The resignation and near-revulsion was heavy in his mind as he scrolled through his com; Frank bit his tongue, knowing that it wasn't the time for distractions but wanting to anyway. _Hey, you should check in on the 109_ , Gerard added, as an afterthought. _Use my codes_ – he pressed them into Frank's mind, startling him into choking on the air – _and tell Linds and the guys thanks for me, too?_

_Sure_ , Frank said, because shit, what else did he have to do? After the past couple of weeks, schoolwork felt irrelevant, stupid. But... _I'll catch up with you later, though_ , he promised, pressing closer for a near-melded moment before drawing reluctantly back. _I really wanna jerk off for you, let you feel it._

_Fuck..._ The sudden heat of arousal was intoxicating, and contagious; Frank smirked to himself as he settled back into the boundaries of his own skin, enjoying leaving Gerard half-hard and frustrated. He'd just have to save it for later; Frank might even be nice and do the same.

* * *

"Hey, hey, what's up?" Jamia's voice issuing from the com speaker was cheerfully worried, broken by static, and Frank eyed the blank black screen dubiously.

"Uh, hey?" Was the mic or whatever even on? Lindsey had tried to explain how it worked, something about subspace signal piggybacking, but it had mostly gone right over Frank's head. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, babe," Jamia assured him. It was fucking weird not seeing her, like they were on the com but not. "We're coming up on a Lane jump in a few, though; you guys aren't in any more trouble, right?"

"The Poison need rescuin' again?" someone else – Frank thought it sounded like that Jimmy guy, the pilot – asked in the background. Frank could picture them all, perched around the cockpit setting out their course for the jump, making time to answer his carefully meaningless message.

"Nah, he's back at his place. Said I should thank you for the both of us, though, and make sure you'd got away."

"Getting away is our specialty," Lindsey chimed in wryly. "Tell that idiot from me, he needs to watch his own damn back."

"That's Frankie's job now, right?" The look on Jamia's face, suggestive and fondly mocking, shone clear through her tone despite the blank com screen. Frank squirmed on the bed, automatically ducking his head to hide the grin that cracked his face, and heard her laugh like she could see him. "So how was it?" she needled, making him choke. "He kinda looks like he'd be, you know –"

"Fuck, J," Frank protested, cutting her off before he could actually hear something he wouldn't be able to unhear. Jamia cackled, and Lindsay was snickering in the background. "But, uh, for your information, it was awesome, thanks, and now we're gonna never speak of this again."

"Spoilsport." Jamia didn't actually sound unhappy, though. "You know I'm totally happy for you, though, right? We all are."

"Yeah, Poison needed to get laid so fuckin' bad," Jimmy cut in gleefully, then yelped indignantly. Frank coughed, wondering whether Jamia or Lindsey had hit him first.

"Just shut up and fly." Lindsey, then. "Take care of yourself, Frankie, and him too. We're running off to the other side of space for a while, and we need you both to stay shiny and whole, get me?"

"Uh-huh." Frank bit his tongue, shuffling around to put his back to the headboard. It was starting to get dark outside already, winter's grip tightening, and he was half surprised Grandma hadn't sent a house drone to call him for dinner already. "You guys better not fuck up and get caught, either. Gee – uh, Party Poison, he's a worrier, you know?"

"Yeah." A crackle of static, louder now, drowned out Lindsey's voice; when it faded out she was saying, "—when you left. I guess it was kind of inevitable, the two of you, really."

"What?" Frank squinted down at the blank screen, like that would help make sense of her words.

"Looking back, the two of you were practically pair-bonded, you know," Lindsey said gently, voice threaded through with a soft crackle of static. Frank blinked, staring at nothing until Jamia came on the line, worried.

"Frankie? Babe? You still there?"

"Don't call me that," Frank said automatically, shaking himself out of it. Fuck, he couldn't think about that.

"Which?" asked Jamia, sweetly. Frank rolled his eyes, hard, then belatedly realized they weren't on com and snorted.

"Fuck you, both."

"What else should I call you? Did someone give you a new name and I missed it?"

"Cobra said –" Jimmy's voice dissolved into another scratch of static, and Frank squinted at the arcane numbers in the corner of the com screen, wondering if it was worth trying to adjust the pickups or whether he'd just cut himself off completely if he tried. Fucking stupid ancient technology, jeez. Gingerly, he prodded at the plus symbol, watching the limit creep up point by point until the hiss of static crackled back into voices.

"—decided, then," Lindsey was saying with satisfaction. "You still there, Fun Ghoul?"

"What?" Frank frowned. That sounded – hadn't that tall fucker back at the club said something like that? "Uh, I think I missed that – you drifted, I had to, um, retune?" That was what Mikey had called it, he was pretty sure.

"Oops," said Jamia, cheerfully unrepentant. "Well, hope you like being Fun Ghoul, babe, 'cause you're gonna be stuck with it now."

"Thanks," Frank deadpanned, turning that over in his head. It sounded... stupid, yeah, but not any worse than Party Poison. Whoever Fun Ghoul was, Frank wasn't entirely sure it was him, not yet, but maybe he could be someday? It felt like a name to grow into, rather than grow with. "You know you never gave me yours, though, right?"

"Whoops, look at that, we gotta sign off!" Jamia announced loudly; it sounded like there was a scuffle at the other end, and Frank could hear Jimmy cackling before Lindsey took over.

"Just ask for Live Wire – and mine's Light Show. _Some_ people don't have much imagination."

"Fuck you!" Jimmy shouted cheerfully back, and Jamia laughed, dirty. "And you too! T minus thirty to jump point, minions!"

"Who's a fucking minion, asshole?" Jamia yelled, loud enough that the signal broke up into static again and Frank winced away from the com. "—do have to go for real, though," she was saying when it cleared. "Keep yourself alive, okay? We'll catch you later!"

* * *

By the time Gerard reached out to him again, all spiky frazzled thoughts flying seventeen different ways, Frank had gone around and around Lindsey's words until they'd solidified into an angry lump in his throat. _Pair-bonded_ , fucking hell. The pissy message he'd typed out to his mom, asking (or, well, demanding) what she'd known, was still sitting on his com, patiently blinking _Not Sent_ at him, and what little he'd managed to choke down at dinner was churning unhappily in his stomach.

_Frankie, do you know where I..._ Gerard's mind calmed as they linked, smoothing over with a tiny relief and a sad spark of worry. _What's wrong? Are you –_

_I'm fine, doofus._ Frank flopped over his desk – he'd been trying to work on his Business Ethics assignment, but hadn't got much further than the thesis statement – and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. Part of him wanted to snap at Gerard, too, but the part that wanted to cling was bigger. He settled for pushing into the link, like a nudge of his shoulder against Gee's. Fuck, he missed him an entirely stupid amount for not even a day apart.

_Me too_ , Gerard told him, _nudging_ back. There was a quiet, wordless question in the tone of his thoughts, that said he'd noted Frank's muddled thoughts but wouldn't pry. Frank rolled his head from side to side, seeing spots behind his eyelids like ink blots, trying to shape the mess of his head into words. Eventually, he resorted to, _Can I ask you something?_

_Always_ , Gerard responded instantly, pushing closer, but Frank found himself pulling back, even though it was the last thing he actually wanted.

_Sorry, just –_ it was harder to get his head in order when they were all tangled up, too easy to let the edges blur. _Gee, back then,_ Frank didn't need to elaborate further, _what actually happened? How much did you know?_

_What?_ Startlement curled around the edges of the word. Abruptly unable to stay still any longer, Frank flung himself to his feet, pacing the length of his room.

_I never knew anything about it, not until Mom dropped the whole, oh by the way we're moving, bombshell. And then I couldn't reach you..._

_Frankie._ Gerard pressed closer, deepening the link. Frank could feel the words stabbing into him, tiny knives of guilt and regret, but he couldn't seem to stop.

_I thought you were gonna turn up and save me, you know. Right to the fucking end, I was so sure, and then..._

_I should have_ , Gerard whispered, and Frank stopped at the end of his restless circuit, leaning forward to press his palms and forehead against the cool wall panel. His skin felt hot and tight, like it did when he started a fever, but all the ache was in his mind and heart, in Gerard's voice. _I should have, Frankie, I'm so fucking sorry I ever believed them._ And – Frank gasped, staggering back as Gerard pulled up a memory, Doctor Morrison's worried-sad face and her words like a punch in the gut.

_"It's not your fault, Gerard. I place the blame on myself; I should have been more careful, but it seemed the obvious solution at the time. Telepaths of your level are so rare that we haven't had much opportunity to study these things, so it's taken us this long just to identify the problem." Her mind was shielded tight; he couldn't pick up so much as a hint of a surface thought._

_"What are you gonna do?" His voice didn't sound like his own, cracking and far-away like he was underwater. His mom put her hand on his knee, squeezing like she needed to hold him down to the earth, like he might float up and fly away._

_"The best thing we can do for Frank right now," Doctor Morrison paused, dropping her eyes like she knew he wasn't going to like this, "is cut off the contact. He's young enough still for his mind to be resilient; he should recover from any accidental influence quickly enough."_

_"I –"_

_"We know you didn't mean to, honey." His mom patted his knee again. "We need to do what's best for Frankie now, though."_

_"So I'm not allowed to talk to him?" How could he even_ do _that? It was fucking impossible._

_His mom sighed. "Frankie's gonna be moving off-planet, with his parents. It works for the business, and..."_

_"You don't trust me." His voice came out high and calm, and his mom flinched._

_"Not at all," Doctor Morrison interjected smoothly. He wondered if she could feel the way his shields were cracking, splitting like skin and bleeding out his thoughts. "It wouldn't be fair to you either, Gerard, if he were to stay. It will be easier this way, for both of you."_

_Easier? He stared at her, the words hovering just out of reach. He couldn't make himself reach for them._

_"I need you to promise me, though." She met his eyes, soft and intense, and he hated her enough in that instant that nausea roiled in his stomach. "Frank's too young to understand why it's necessary, but you need to make it a clean break, Gerard. Let him go. Do you understand?"_

_No. "Yes."_

"Fuck." Frank's knees gave out, and he sat down hard on the edge of the bed. " _Fuck_ , Gee."

_Mm._ The ache in Gerard's answering thought was old, pinching, deep. Frank groped for something to say, but he had no idea how to feel, and settled for flopping back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. _Don't be too pissed at your mom,_ Gerard told him eventually; _she was doing what she had to, you know?_

_Yeah._ That really didn't make Frank want to yell at her any less, though; couldn't any of them have just fucking _asked_ him if he was uncomfortable or messed up or whatever? _I guess I kind of get it, like, I_ was _just a fucking kid, and you were older and all, and pair-bonding or whatever is some serious motherfucking business._

_Yeah, I'd been like trying to be careful?_ Frank could feel Gerard settling back into his pillows, over at the Ways', one hand describing shapes in the air. _Like, I'd make fucking sure to shield real hard – from you_ and _Mikey – when I jerked off and stuff, and like just not think about sex or, or hot people and shit, where you could hear me. I was kinda para – wait_ , he interrupted himself, thoughts swirling to an abrupt halt. _Are... you saying we're pair-bonded?_

_Well, duh._ Frank managed to hold a mental straight face for a couple of seconds before he cracked up, laughing stupidly at the blank astonishment of Gerard's mind. _I dunno, are we?_ He _showed_ Gerard what Lindsey had said. _Does it even matter? This isn't, like, some stupid holo-drama._ He was pretty sure he wouldn't actually die without Gerard, either, like all those pathetic moaning heroines. They just... fit together, or something.

_I wouldn't mind the moaning_ , Gerard said, which made Frank giggle even more. _In the interests of, fucking, full disclosure and shit._

_What, no melodramatic declarations of love?_ Frank needled, wriggling his toes. _So I shouldn't run out and get your name tattooed on my ass?_

_Eurgh._ Gerard's shudder raised goosepimples all across Frank's skin, which was kind of fucking awesome; he stretched lazily, letting his hand drift down from his chest to his belly and smirking when Gerard pressed instantly closer, eager. _Frankie –_

_Yeah_ , Frank breathed out, hitching his shirt up to trail his fingertips shiveringly down his skin, tucking them into the top of his jeans.

_Tease_ , Gerard accused; Frank grinned, lifting his hips and pressing his palm down over his dick. He was well past half-hard and on his way to rock fucking solid, balls tightening and cock pushing up against his fly as it filled out. He could feel all of Gerard's attention on him, intent and hungry, and it made him slow down as he eased the fastening open, spread the stiff fabric apart and pushed his underwear out of the way.

_Fuck_ , Gerard swore in his head; Frank echoed it with a gasp as he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, feeling it swell even fuller in his grip. _Do it slow_ , Gerard begged; Frank jerked in time with him as he shoved his hand down his own pants.

_Don't think I – fuck_ , Frank panted, gritting his teeth as he swept his hand up, over the already-slick head, then down, tight and wet and so fucking good that his hips were pushing up already. _Fuck, I wish you were here to do this – ah – for me, I wanna – I want your mouth again, Gee, so fucking wet and good and, ah, I'm gonna –_

_Yeah,_ Gerard moaned, fucking up into his fist, and Frank tried to match his rhythm, the little twist thing he did at the top of every stroke, _Yeah, do it, I wanna feel it, Frankie, come on..._

"Fuck," Frank groaned out loud, through his teeth, and slammed his shoulders back into the mattress and his hips up, cock jerking over and over in his hand as the come spurted wet across his fingers and belly. _Fu-u-uuuck,_ Gerard stuttered in his head, mind whiting out too as he pulsed and shuddered, Frank's orgasm spilling over into him. _Oh, fuck, Frankie._

_Yeah_ , Frank thought faintly, staring up at the ceiling, inhaling sharply as a twitch of aftershock was echoed in Gerard's body. _Awesome._

* * *

Frank had never thought it would actually happen, but it was official: his life was fucking over. He was so bored and twitchy from staring at the same four walls of his room, waiting for something to happen, that he'd ended up stomping downstairs to the lounge, and now he was voluntarily watching the fucking holo news. He couldn't even bug Gerard, because he was _busy_ with fucking Grant Morrison again and some dinner the Ways were giving; that just made Frank's twitchiness worse, because he couldn't shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.

"Call," Uncle Tony declared behind him, making Frank jump, and Grandpa snorted, slapping his cards down onto the table.

"Good luck with that."

"Damn."

Frank tuned them out again, pushing his shoulders back into the couch and slumping down further. Grandpa always won; he didn't get why his uncle thought that would fucking change. On the holo display, the item about safety breaches at a power plant on Yggdrasil ended, and the newscaster smiled glassily, introducing a report on a new health scheme that was supposed to promote 'wellness', whatever that was. Frank snorted, folding his arms over his chest, and let himself zone out, poking through his messages again.

Mikey had sent him a pic set earlier, just random shit like his shoes and an epic action-figure battle between Doctor Magnifico and the Black Saints, and one image of Gerard curled in the corner of the window seat, face turned to stare out. Frank had saved that instantly; he was ninety-nine percent certain that Mikey had taken it while they'd been talking yesterday, and also that Gerard had no idea how fucking pretty he looked, eyes unfocused and shoulders relaxed, just the barest hint of a smile on his face. It made Frank's heart squeeze stupidly in his chest, just to look at him.

"And in today's main news," the newscaster announced smoothly, "the Peace Keepers have released an image of the main suspect in the terrorist attacks against the Council and the Better Living Network Launch." Frank's head jerked up, hard, and his insides dropped down through his feet, because the picture on the display was unmistakeably him. His face was obscured by the hood, and the angle was weird because he was running, his back half turned, but how much would that mean? Anyone who knew him would recognize him, he was suddenly sure, and he fumbled to clap the holo off with shaking hands while the newscaster was still introducing the rep from the Peace Keepers. Fuck, _fuck_ , it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, panic crawling across his skin; he had to _move_.

"Frankie?" Grandpa called after him when Frank was already halfway out the door; Frank mumbled something that might have involved the word 'bathroom', but he couldn't be all that sure. He just had to get the hell out of there, away from the risk of recognition, the risk of discovery, the risk that his Family would find out, or worse, be used against him. Grandpa had been talking about business opportunities with the Better Living bullshit, and it wasn't like Frank thought he'd ever actually hand him over, but...

Frank was out of the compound gate and halfway down the street, just on the safe side of outright running, before his brain rebooted from the shock and started asking what the hell he was doing. The blind panic of before started to turn to dread, trickling down his spine, as he realized that there was nowhere he could go. Fuck, what if he got caught? Once they knew his name, it would all be over; the whole Family would be dragged into it, and probably the Ways, too. Frank knew, suddenly, sober and terrifyingly certain, that there was nothing he wouldn't do – _nothing_ – if it meant avoiding that.

He slowed to a stop at the corner, panting for breath that felt icy in his throat. Fuck, he knew he should turn back, he couldn't even take a transit pod because of the recorders, and he'd left his fucking ID back at the House anyway. It was hard to bring himself to, though; everything in him ached to run, to say _fuck you_ to the Peace Keepers and the Council and their stupid fucking schemes and just grab Gerard and Mikey and steal whatever the fuck they had to so they could get the hell away from here.

The decision was made for him, the sound of boots on permacrete reaching up the street. Fuck, Frank thought, head coming up; they were too in-unison to be anything but official, getting rapidly closer. Swallowing his heart back down, he stared around, searching for cover, but there was nothing, only the straggly clumps of shrub around the base of the street sign that looked a whole lot smaller than he remembered. Fuck, _fuck_. They were getting nearer, footsteps tramping on like his fucking death march, and they'd be around the corner any second. Frank forced himself to move – hell, maybe he could put them to sleep or something, it had to be worth a chance – but he was too late; a voice shouted, and he whirled, startled, and suddenly there were two Peace Keepers in front of him, the whole world slowing down to the thump of his heartbeat as they went for their guns. All he could see was the black mouth of the muzzle as it lifted, the streaks of char down the white barrel. Desperately, he stretched out, reaching, and with a _pop_ , everything went black.

The world slammed back into him, hard. Frank wheezed, splotches pulsing sickly behind his eyes, and pressed his face into the hard surface beneath him, willing himself not to throw up. His head felt like it was about to explode, and his stomach was lurching every which way, and it took a long few breaths before he managed to convince himself that it was a floor underneath him and not a wall or ceiling. He was sure he wasn't actually dead, though, so eventually he managed to get his hands under himself and struggle up to his knees, blinking his eyes clear enough to see...

"What the fuck." Frank squinted, but no, it was definitely his room at the Way compound. There was his fucking Mad Gear shirt, still hanging over the back of the chair where he'd left it, and the Spider Sisters action figure Mikey'd given him for his birthday (because he was an asshole), pushed discreetly behind the terminal. "What the _fuck_." He tried to get to his feet, but decided quickly that it was a very bad idea and he should just stay sitting on the floor until his brain stopped trying to leak out of his ears and his stomach re-established a relationship with gravity. Apparently, teleporting – and that was the only fucking explanation Frank could come up with as to why he was here, and alive, and not arrested in a cell somewhere – apparently it fucking took it out of you. Shit, now he knew why Mikey had always refused to explain; just trying to think about how the hell he'd done it made Frank's head hurt even worse.

Ugh, this was getting him nowhere. Gritting his teeth, Frank groped out for the edge of the mattress, grabbing hold and half crawling, half pulling himself up onto the bed. The pillow, when he planted his face in it, was awesomely soft, and clean, and... Frank lifted his head, taking a curious sniff, but nope, it really did smell like Gerard. Huh.

On the subject of Gerard, though... Carefully, since the room hadn't quite stopped rocking around him yet, Frank reached out, settling into the link. Gerard was still distracted, concentrating on his shields, but he sent a quick, tiny pulse of affection back, and Frank was pretty sure whatever they were doing over at the main House was wrapping up. Pushing out with his senses confirmed that; he could _see_ the shuttlecars waiting out front, and it was kind of an effort not to trip Grant Morrison on his smirking ass as he leaned in to speak to Gerard. That wasn't Frank's business, though, so he reluctantly pulled away, pressing his face into the pillow. Weirdly, the use of clairvoyance seemed to have settled his stomach down; he didn't feel nearly as likely to puke, at least.

Getting upright was still an epic struggle, but Frank was victorious (even if he had to hang onto the wall for balance). The door beeped confusedly at him, but unlocked easily enough to his palm; he was kind of curious, honestly, as to how Gerard had got in. Maybe as the Heir he had a master code?

It was the time of day when there should definitely have been people in the halls, other employees in search of drinks or snacks, heading in or out for the night, but the security alert must have sent everyone back to their own Families or homes, because the only other beings Frank encountered were a couple of house-drones sucking up dust. They didn't pay him any attention at all, busy with their tasks, but he gave them a wide and wary berth, slipping past and out onto the back verandah. There was a door out here that led into the back portion of the main House; it was the way he'd dragged Gerard, that night he'd been wasted off his head, so it was easy enough to let himself into the back stairway now.

Disappointingly, Gerard's room was empty and dark when Frank slid the door carefully open. There were clothes tossed all over the carpet by the closet, the door hanging open, so either the drones hadn't been in here at all today or there'd been some kind of dressing-for-dinner-related freakout episode. Frank eyed a discarded shirt surreptitiously, wondering if he could bring himself to pick it up and sniff it without actually dying of embarrassment and uncoolness on the spot. Not that it was guaranteed to smell all that great – Frank _knew_ Gerard had showered that morning, because he'd had a first-hand view, as it were, but the guy had a terrible attitude to laundry. If it wouldn't guarantee Mikey or someone walking in, though, Frank would totally have stripped down and stretched out on the bed, just to see Gerard's face.

While he was contemplating exactly how best to most effectively molest his boyfriend, though, a noise came from the hallway, making him freeze where he was. Fuck, had someone seen him after all?

"—don't see why we gotta–" filtered through the door, tired and pissy but fuck, the tightness in Frank's stomach was anything but fear, suddenly. Hearing Gerard's voice over the com didn't even fucking _compare_ ; he was reaching out before Gerard got the door fully open, wrapping his hands in the lapels of his stupid suit jacket and dragging him in.

"Wha – mm!" Frank cut off Gerard's words and his astonished windmilling with a kiss, pushing up on his toes and letting his eyes slide shut at the rush of recognition-joy- _FRANKIE_ as Gerard caught up. _Fuck, what are you even–_ The words dissolved into a flood of emotion, and Frank leaned into Gerard's body and mind, parted his lips to invite his tongue in.

"Don't mind me," Mikey's voice said dryly behind them; Gerard jumped, and Frank – reluctantly – freed one hand from his death grip to wave his middle finger vaguely in Mikey's direction. He didn't protest when Gerard broke the kiss, though, pulling back to stare at Frank. His eyes were wide and stunned and so fucking pretty that it took a seriously superhuman effort for Frank not to pull him back down. Gerard clearly felt it; the tops of his cheekbones flushed from pink to bright red, and Frank grinned giddily, groping for his hand. Fuck Mikey, anyway.

"I'd leave you to it," Mikey complained, wandering over to flop into Gerard's desk chair, "but if you actually walked over here I'm not sure I can let my brother be with such a fucking moron."

"Fuck you." Frank stuck his tongue out, clinging stubbornly to Gerard's hand when he would've pulled away to wring them. "And I didn't – well, okay, I kind of left the House, but, uh." Shit, he'd been so caught up the teleporting thing and seeing Gee that he'd almost forgotten, but oh, there went the shaky panicky feeling again. "Fuck."

" _Teleporting_?" Gerard demanded shrilly, eyes widening impossibly, and Mikey abandoned his lazy posture, sitting straight upright. They were both staring right at Frank, who had to sit down, abruptly, on the foot of Gerard's bed, as the narrowness of his escape hit home. He didn't fight it when Gerard reached out, letting him see the memories but flinching from the stab of fear they brought. "Shit, Frankie..." Gerard breathed, fingers clenched so tightly around Frank's that his bones grated; he wobbled, then collapsed down to his knees, pressing his forehead against Frank's jeans-clad thigh. _Too fucking close, Frank._

_I know_ , Frank whispered. It was all he could say.

"Do I want to ask?" Mikey's voice made Frank jump a little, but he didn't stop petting Gerard's hair.

"Probably not." Wow, he sounded fucked up. "I'm pretty sure they didn't get an actual look at me, at least?" It had all happened too quickly; there was nothing in his own memory but a blur of white uniforms. If they'd had recorders on them, though... "Think 'I was sneaking out to visit my boyfriend' is enough of an excuse for breaking curfew?"

Gerard snorted, rolling his head to the side so he could look up at Frank. "I doubt it." _I like how that sounds, though._

_What, boyfriend?_ Frank grinned – shaky, but real.

"Yeah, okay, I'm outta here," Mikey muttered, clambering to his feet and making for the door. Gerard lifted his head to blink after him, then back up at Frank when the door slid shut, so innocently puzzled that Frank cracked up. His knees had almost stopped shaking when he stood up to go engage the lock – priorities, okay – and kick off his shoes. Distraction, motherfucker; he peeled off his shirt on the way back to the bed, feeling Gerard's attention focusing in on him.

_Too much freaking out, not enough making out_ , Frank told him, cutting off Gerard's worried frown with, _nuh uh, I got a plan, baby._

"Baby?" Gerard objected out loud, then stopped, frowning, as Frank giggled. _What plan?_

_The plan is, I wanna blow you._ Frank lingered deliberately over thoughts of Gerard's dick, nice and hard and hot in his hand, how he wanted to get down there and wrap his mouth around it, rub his tongue up against the head where it'd be bitter-salty with precome... _With an option on, like, putting my fingers in your ass, if you're into that._ He went for his fly, and before he even had the button undone Gerard was surging up from his knees and tackling him onto the bed, tongue pushing into Frank's mouth and dick pushing up against his hip.

_Fuck, Frankie, you're so fucking –_ Gerard breathed in his mind, and Frank rolled them over so he was on top, pressing deliberately down to make Gerard buck and whine. Yeah, definitely better than freaking out; he sat up to shove Gerard's stupid jacket off his shoulders and yank up his shirt before letting Gerard pull him back down for another kiss, hot and messy and insistent.

* * *

Frank was still in Gerard's room the next day, because the night had turned into the morning and Gerard had eventually, reluctantly, had to get up and shower (Frank had helped) and put on clothes and go out to a meeting at the Morrison place. Frank didn't mind so much (even if he'd had to send his Grandma a message pretending he didn't want to be disturbed because he had assignment deadlines, and hope like hell no one went looking for him), because it gave him a chance to talk about the whole teleportation thing with Mikey (who just shrugged when Frank asked if he didn't have to go in to work). Besides, it wasn't like he could walk out the door and across the city in the middle of the day, without his ID or a believable excuse. He was trying to think of a way to convince or bribe Mikey into teleporting them back over to the compound, in fact, when Mikey lifted his head, staring at nothing, and announced, "Gee's back."

"Really?" Frank squinted at the door, reaching out, but it still took him another second to latch onto Gerard's presence, and when he did, he frowned. "Shit, something's wrong."

"Yeah." Mikey didn't elaborate, just pushed off the desk, slouching out without another word. Frank blinked after him, then shrugged, scrambling up to his feet and bouncing impatiently. He was seconds from abandoning caution and running out to meet him when the door finally slid open.

"Wha – oof," Gerard mumbled when Frank cannoned into him and latched on, but he didn't seem to _mind_ , dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around Frank's back, tight. _What, what's up, what happened?_

"What's up with _you_?" Frank retorted, pulling back just far enough that he could stare into Gerard's eyes without crossing his. Gerard's shoulders under his hands were pulled in tight, and he was still half shielded, wrapped up in his own head; Frank darted in to kiss him, briefly, before pulling reluctantly out of his arms and dragging him over to sit down on the bed. _Seriously, what happened?_ he pushed. _You're all knotted up about_ something.

_It's nothing._ Gerard stared at his knees for a second before sighing and collapsing backwards onto the mattress like his strings had been cut. Frank wriggled and pushed his way up to prop himself on his side beside him, elbow under his head and eyes fixed on Gerard's face, waiting.

_It's just,_ Gerard said eventually, staring up at the ceiling. _I wonder if I ever even knew him at all, you know? Grant_ , he added, like it wasn't entirely obvious, because he was a fucking adorable moron. Frank's heart seriously felt like it was going to swell right up, and also split in two with – it wasn't jealousy, exactly, he wasn't stupid enough for that, but... something dark and fierce and possessive. No one got to make Gerard feel this miserable.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked eventually, grudgingly, when Gerard didn't say anything further.

"I don't know." Gerard sighed, turning to look at Frank, then back up at the ceiling like it was just too much effort. "He used to be – fucking, I don't know, creative and shit. He'd always talk about these ideas he had, you know? Writing, political stuff, stupid shit." _I don't know when it started to change. You left, and Grandma died_ , the flash of old grief that twined around the thought rocked Frank back _, and it was all just... I should have fucking paid attention, but..._

"Hey." Frank reached down to capture Gerard's hand where he was tangling the hem of his shirt up in his fingers, and shoved firmly back on the creeping feeling of being out of his depth. "It's okay."

_It's not._ "It's like he's not even there, now. Like, did you ever play that game," Gerard lifted his free hand, drawing shapes in the air, "that thing where you change one piece at a time, and they all fucking fit and all, but when you're done you end up with a completely different picture? You know?"

"...Yeah." Frank squeezed Gerard's hand tight. "I know." Fuck.

"Fuck," Gerard agreed, sadly. _I didn't even fucking notice, for the longest time. I'm an asshole._

_Don't_ , Frank started, but Gerard shook his head, shifting restlessly.

"No, I know, but – shit, Frankie, I know there's nothing I can do about it, if they've fucking, I don't know, brainwashed him or shit, or he's just fucking decided to be on their goddamn side, I'm not – I just feel like I ought to be able to do something, you know?" He turned his head, staring at Frank, and they both jumped half out of their skins when something thudded loud against the door. It slid open to reveal – Frank sagged back on the bed, swallowing his heart back down.

"Fuck, Mikey," he complained. Mikey just gave him a flat look, standing there with his hands full, and Frank could feel the moment Gerard noticed, not least because he sat up so fast the mattress shuddered.

"Coffee?"

"Coffee," Mikey confirmed, holding out the hand that had two mugs, so Frank had to sit up too and rescue one of them, because Gerard would totally drink both if not stopped.

_I would not_ , Gerard grumbled in his head; Frank buried his grin in the mug, listening to the happy noises Gerard was making to his coffee. Mikey was kind of an awesome brother, he thought, and felt Gerard agree silently.

"So." Mikey sat himself down on the chair, spending so long fastidiously arranging his limbs and clothes that Frank wondered if that was all he was actually going to say until he looked up at Gerard. "Did you find out what they're planning?"

"What who's planning?" Frank asked, immediately feeling like an idiot as Mikey flicked an impenetrable glance his way. Oh. Right. Yeah.

"I don't even know there is anything." Gerard was gnawing on a fingernail, coffee forgotten in his other hand. Frank gave him a little mental nudge, then a more obvious one when Gerard turned a puzzled look on him.

"But you think there is," Mikey stated like a certainty. Frank watched Gerard as he stilled, mug halfway to his mouth, then reluctantly nodded. And oh, there was that feeling again, anticipatory dread churning in the pit of Frank's stomach. Fuck, he hadn't missed it.

"Grant's – well, technically I guess I'm stronger than him, so I can like tell when he's keeping shit back, you know?" _Kind of always, lately,_ he thought sadly; Frank opened up the link, offering understanding and wrapping Gerard's thoughts tight and close when he snuggled in. "I fucking know there's something, but he'll _know_ if I push it. I don't think I could stop him from reading me, if he tried for real, you know?" _He's known me since I was a fucking kid._

"Gee." Frank reached for his hand, fighting back the panic clawing at his chest, the need to lash out in retaliation. "How long until he actually does?"

"Fuck," Mikey said quietly. Gerard stared at Frank, wide-eyed, and Frank swallowed words in a painful lump, lacing their fingers tight together.

_You said he's getting worse, Gee. He's going to find out. Fuck, all it would take is one stray thought, it wouldn't even have to be_ you _, just someone who knows._

"Frank's right," Mikey said, making him jump. The look on Gerard's face as he turned to his brother hurt like a kick to the gut, and Frank swallowed, for once selfishly glad to be left to the side of whatever they were saying. "The risk is only going to get worse," Mikey continued eventually. "You can't keep avoiding this forever, Gee."

"But –" Gerard broke off, squeezing his eyes shut. Frank could feel the pain of it, the stab and tear of everything that was pulling at him, fierce aching love and determined responsibility and helpless outrage. And, around and over it all, ground in deep, layer after layer of fear. "If we do this," Gerard gritted out, gripping Frank's hand so hard their bones creaked, "if we run, it's forever. Grant – he won't ever stop chasing us. I know him, he'd see it as a personal betrayal."

"So, what?" Frank tugged free of his grip, jumping up to pace the length of the room. "You want to just, wait for them to catch you? Give up and take it and pretend you don't want anything more? You _can't_ take it, Gee, it's fucking you up."

"Fuck you." Gerard's voice was shaky, shocked; he surged to his feet, gesticulating wildly. "You want to run? Leave your Family behind, let fuck knows what happen to them?"

"I –" That made Frank stop for a second, mind racing, but – "No, damn it, you don't get to use me as an excuse." There was his mom, but she was off-planet right now, and if it came down to it Frank was pretty sure the Ways would look out for her. "I trust my fucking Family to take care of themselves, okay." If – if things got so bad here that they _couldn't_ , well, he'd have to fly that Lane when he came to it. "You have to make a decision sometime, Gee; you can't just hide at the bottom of a fucking bottle forever."

"I told you." Gerard's voice trembled still, but it was anger that had his fists clenched at his sides, white and hurt. "You know I'm not doing that any more, I –"

"Maybe I should –" Mikey started, sidling toward the door, but Frank cut him off with an angry shake of his head, grabbing for his shoes. If he didn't move he was going to punch someone.

"No, I'm going," he snapped, stomping out of the door and ignoring the shock that washed over the anger in Gerard's mind.

_Frankie, don't –_

_I'm not fucking breaking up with you, man_ , Frank shot back, already halfway down the main stairs and ignoring the house drones that whistled questioningly at him. Gerard might be a stupid asshole, but he was Frank's, damn it. _I'm just going home before we have an actual motherfucking fight._

_But it's still light out...!_

_Whatever._ Still, Frank wasn't actually stupid enough to march down the street in full fucking view of anyone who might be looking; he took the back way, skulking down the access road that ran along the block, and cutting across the old transit yard between the shadows of the stacked pods. He could feel Gerard's worried presence in his head the whole way, which just wound him up more, and when he skinned his palms raw climbing up the compound wall that was just _it_ ; Frank slammed his shields up, kicking out at his grandma's stupid ornamental batbird bath on his way up the path. By the time he'd snuck up the stairs to his room, though, freezing every time he heard someone move, most of the anger had drained away into a well of tired sadness. Frank threw himself face-first onto his unmade bed, breathing in laundry cleaner edged with sweat and dried come, and missed Gerard so hard his whole body hurt.

_Call me when you decide,_ he typed out on his com screen; it still took him a long time of staring at it to hit Send.

* * *

The call, when it came, was impossible to ignore. Frank jerked upright from where he'd been slumped in the window seat of the back parlor, almost cracking his skull open on the corner of the wall as the link flared from a faint glow in the back of his head to a sudden blaze, Gerard's mind all but slamming into his.

_Frank, fuck! You have to – Mikes is picking up the skimmer, Frankie, they got Ray! And Luce, and Gabe, the motherfuckers are hauling them in today,_ now _, on some bullshit terrorism charge!_ He sounded so panicked and sick and out of his head that Frank felt his stomach heave with the horror of it.

_Fuck, they can't –_

_Of course they can, they can do whatever the fuck they like, the fucking President's there!_ Frank could feel Gerard pacing, the tug of his hands snarled in his hair. _Fuck, I don't even know what they were doing, how they got caught – I can't raise Linds' crew or the fucking Doctor, it's only luck I was checking the boards! What the fuck do we_ do, _Frankie?_

"Mother of fuck." Frank pressed his forehead against the cool glass, trying to think. They had to do something, no question about that, but... _Gee, it's gotta be a trap. It_ has _to be. Why else – they can't have any evidence or, or fucking charges. Either the guys are cover, another fucking distraction while they hit more Stations, or they're bait. They_ want _us to go charging in there,_ he realized, cold sweat trickling down his spine, and he could feel Gerard's groan vibrating in his own throat.

_But we can't –_

_I know._ Frank stumbled to his feet, breaking into a run as he hit the hallway. _I'll get my gun, okay; do we have a plan?_

Gerard was silent for a long moment, before coming back. _Try not to die?_ Frank rolled his eyes, and flung himself onto his belly to grope under his bed, between the frame and the wall where he'd stashed it. The white metal was cold and heavy in his hand.

_Fucking think of something better than that._ Despite the panic rolling in his gut, the adrenaline tightening every limb, it felt so fucking good to have Gerard back in his head after three days of not-quite-fighting, like coming home. Frank rolled his eyes at himself, and checked the safety was on before shoving the gun into his pocket.

_Where did you even get that?_ Gerard demanded, then, _Fuck, never mind, Mikey says there's some big fuss at the Capitol, fucking Peace Keepers everywhere._

_That's gotta be it. And I had it since that whole fucking mess went down last time, duh._ Frank cast around his room, trying to think. He had...

_One gun, though,_ Gerard was muttering in his head as Frank dove for his closet. But – no, it was at the Ways', wasn't it? _That's, like, almost worse than none. Fuck, whatever we do we're gonna get killed, Frankie._

_Gee, Gee,_ Frank interrupted his babbling, shoving himself up to his feet. _Where are you, are you home?_

_What?_ Gerard's mind swooped around, reorienting itself. _Back yard, why?_

_Get the fuck upstairs – my room, closet, there's my demo kit, it's a black bag. Tell Mikes to grab the case, if he hasn't already._ They'd stashed it in the boathouse, with the skimmer; it had felt safer, both because none of them wanted to risk the residue being detected, and because Frank had a healthy respect for not being accidentally blown to bits.

_Fuck_. Gerard disappeared for a long moment; Frank stared down at his ID on the nightstand, wondering if it even mattered. It wasn't like they wouldn't know who he was, the moment someone got a clear look at his face. He zipped his hoodie on instead, pocketing his com and stamping his feet into his boots. He was halfway to the door when he thought, gloves, and wheeled to grab them from the dresser, and then Gerard's thoughts were crashing back into his, breathless.

_Get out of the house, can you get round the back? Mikey's gotta circle round, avoid the patrols, he'll pick you up._

_On my way_ , Frank sent back, slamming out of his room and through the nursery hall, ignoring his cousin Louisa when she called his name. He took the main stairway two at a time, bolting for the back of the house and the patio doors.

"Frank?" Fuck, Grandma. He screwed his eyes shut, pushing out ahead of him to hit the door release.

"Can't talk emergency love you bye!" he shouted back over his shoulder, sprinting down the garden path and leaping the low wall bordering the patio like a fucking professional hurdler. He couldn't hear the skimmer over the labored mess of his own breathing, but Frank could feel it approaching, all his senses extended and prickling. There was a place, back at the end of the gardens, where the wall dipped lower right on the edge of the ravine; Frank had used to sit up there, as a kid, leaning back against the lumpy trunk of the football tree and kicking his legs out over the slope as he watched the ships taking off across the valley. He ran for it now, the healing scrapes on his palms stinging as he scrambled up the rough brickwork.

The whine of the skimmer's drive dropped low as Mikey slewed it around in a narrow loop, angling in toward the edge of the ravine where the landslip had cleared a swath of the scrub. He had the hatch open already, and Frank pushed up onto his feet on top of the wall, wobbling crazily n the downdraft of the jets.

"Fuck, Frank, I can –" Mikey yelled over the noise, but Frank didn't give him a chance to finish, gauging the distance – three fucking meters, easy – and grasping for the edges of the hatch with his mind as he jumped.

The skimmer dropped and pitched wildly as Frank hit it, and he had to cling to the edge of the passenger seat for dear life, legs swinging over the fifty-meter drop, until Mikey fought it back under control and he could scramble up and in, buckling the harness with hands that were barely even shaking.

"You're fucking insane!" Mikey yelled, like he didn't even realize he'd gotten stuck on top volume; Frank closed his eyes for a second, breathing, letting himself sink back in the seat. He was going to have a huge motherfucking bruise where the battery end of the gun had jammed into his hip, but ten centimeters to the left and it'd have been a whole lot worse. Maybe he could get Gerard to kiss it better, assuming they managed to make it out alive.

"Stop thinking gross things," Mikey ordered tensely, and Frank snorted, cracking one eye open. Mikey was hunched over the controls, gaze fixed on the viewscreen, driving way too fucking fast and way too close to the surface of the river; Frank could see it frothing and spitting just meters below, like it was reaching up to try and catch them.

"Thought you weren't a telepath," he retorted, and Mikey snorted.

"Like I need to be, the look on your face. Make yourself fuckin' useful and grab my com outta the back, I've got an unscrambler for the PK comms network."

"Fuck," Frank whistled, impressed, and squirmed around in the seat until he could wriggle his shoulders and torso back through the narrow gap into the tiny cargo space. "Awesome, you got my stuff." He paused to pat the little crate proprietorially, if carefully.

"Yeah, sitting on top of enough TPP to blow us both sky-high is a real good time," Mikey muttered. Frank rolled his eyes, retrieving his battered com and squirming back through the gap. Fitting Gerard in here too was going to be interesting, he thought.

"Dude, it's raw. You could maybe do some damage if you, like, bludgeoned someone with it, but we don't even have a detonator."

"Right." Mikey's voice was tight, and Frank grabbed for the handholds as he yanked the skimmer around into a tight turn, heading for – 

"Whoa whoa whoa shit!" Frank slammed back in his seat, but it was too late; they plunged into the darkness as the dock outflow tunnel swallowed them up. "What the fuck?!"

"Shut up," was all Mikey said, his eyes screwed shut in ferocious concentration as he twisted the controls sharply, barely even fucking slowing. Frank stared from him to the complete darkness flowing by the viewscreen and windows, and closed his own eyes, swallowing. Mikey had to know what the fuck he was doing, but...

"There," Mikey breathed, and even through his closed eyelids, Frank could see the light blooming painfully bright as they burst out into the air over the docks.

"Fuck," he choked, slewing around in his seat to stare behind them, where the other end of the tunnel was receding rapidly, bare centimeters over the placid ripples of the harbor. "How the fuck did you even –"

"Done it before," was all Mikey said, grim; by the time Frank managed to convince his heart to stop trying to beat its way out through his ribcage, he was already maneuvering the skiff into a narrow street, slowing to what felt like a crawl to Frank.

Keeping carefully under the speed limits – the last thing they needed was attention – it took a good ten minutes to circle around the back streets and alleys to the Way compound. Frank chafed every centimeter of the way, poking fretfully at Mikey's com but unable to make head or tail of the bizarre bursts of letters and numbers the dispatcher periodically issued. When Gerard reached out, the link flaring like a sunburst of impatience and worry in his mind, he latched on gratefully.

_Where are you?_

_Almost there,_ Frank told him, sending an image of the cross street as Mikey turned carefully into it. They were pretty much directly behind the Center, here, only few more streets from the Ways', the top of the swingset and jungle gym they'd all played on as kids visible over the high wall of the grounds between the skeletal branches.

_Fuck, stop. Mikey_ , that was weirdly distorted, echoey, but Frank could hear it. _Stop, ditch the skimmer, I'm coming to meet you._

_What?_ Frank demanded, but Gerard pressed back against the thought, insistent, and Mikey was already pulling the skimmer to the side of the street to set down.

_There's that flat bit on the roof of the Center, right?_ Gerard's mental voice was shaky and breathless, and when Frank pushed closer he could feel him running, the rasp of his breath and sweat beading his forehead and awkward discomfort so _Gerard_ he couldn't even.

"Makes sense," Mikey observed quietly. "We need to see what's going on, and with all the fucking pigs around the Capitol..."

"Yeah." Something felt off, though. Frank glanced up and down the narrow back street, but it was empty, gloomy with the sun low in the sky and hidden. "What the fuck even happened, man?" he asked, turning back to Mikey. He kept a light touch on Gerard, though, just for the security of feeling him heading closer.

"I don't know." Mikey shrugged, fiddling with his com and cocking his head when another burst of incomprehensible code spat out of it. "Toro doesn't usually run, you know? He's supposed to be, like, under the radar. Luce, too; I guess something must have gone really fucking wrong."

"Yeah." Frank gnawed on his lip, bouncing his knee impatiently. Shit, Gerard was taking forever. 

"It feels like it's a trap," he burst out eventually; Mikey cut his eyes to him, but didn't say anything. "Shit," Frank muttered, and then almost jumped right out of his fucking skin when something thumped against the driver's side hatch. He might have shrieked a tiny bit, even, though he'd later deny it strenuously. Mikey snorted, hitting the release.

"Hey, Gee."

"Hey." Gerard was breathing hard, red-faced and sweaty, the most fucking beautiful sight Frank had ever seen. If he could get his heart to stop yammering in his throat, he might even be able to say so, or at least say something. Gerard was totally fucking giggling inside his head, too.

Getting up onto the roof, as it turned out, was easier said than done. The first few jumps and scrambles, onto the top of the grounds wall and from there to the shallow roof of the school wing, weren't impossible, even with the blasting crate propped on Frank's shoulder and Gerard clutching his hand for balance. The sheer vertical face of the Center proper loomed up before them like a cliff, though, high and stark and white, with the lowest ledge of the parapet well over three meters up. Frank stared up at it from their scant refuge in the lee of the roof ridge, feeling Gerard's heart sinking like it was beating in his own chest.

"Fucking idiots," Mikey remarked, quiet and almost conversational. "Gee, give me a boost."

"Huh?" Gerard turned, mouth rounding into an O. "Are you sure?" Mikey didn't actually dignify that with an answer, just twitched an eyebrow, and Gerard sighed, shuffling in closer to the wall and bracing himself awkwardly against it. Frank watched, wide-eyed, as Mikey scrambled up onto his brother's shoulders and _leaped_ , catching the parapet easily and swinging up and over. Gerard staggered a bit, rubbing at his shoulder, but grinned at Frank.

_Your turn, Frankie. C'mon, quick._

_What about you?_ Frank protested, putting his hands obediently on Gerard's shoulders but hesitating there, staring at him.

_Mikey can lift me. Don't like it, though,_ Gerard made a face, sneaking a quick glance upward before darting in to kiss Frank, just a tiny peck. Frank shuddered, but it wasn't the fucking time, so he braced his foot on Gerard's bent knee and pushed upwards, _reaching reaching reaching_ until he caught the parapet with his mind and pulled, yanking himself up. Mikey grabbed his shoulders when he overshot, and Frank tumbled over the rim of the wall into a messy, helplessly-giggling heap in the narrow crescent of space before the rising arc of the dome.

"Ow," Mikey grumbled, poking the toe of his shoe into Frank's ribs and pushing him over onto his back, where Frank lay breathing up at the dirty blue of the winter sky. The air tasted like snow, he thought bizarrely, as the crate and his demolition kit settled gingerly onto the tiles beside him; it was sharp and ozonic on his tongue.

Gerard made a lot more fuss than the explosives had, complaining mentally to Mikey the whole way that he was ripping his jacket, in between freaking out that he might fall. His face was deathly pale and more than slightly green when he collapsed dizzily next to Frank, and Frank heaved himself up enough to pull Gerard's head into his lap, petting his hair.

_You got a plan, yet?_ he asked, when most of the sickly feeling had subsided. Gerard sighed, rolling reluctantly over and kneeing upright.

"It's gonna depend what the hell's actually going on down there, I guess." He shrugged one shoulder, staring down at his hands, before looking up at Mikey's face for a long moment, then Frank's. His hair was sticking up all over the place, dirty and still-pinkish, and there was a smudge of dirt all down one side of his face; he looked fucking crazy, and fucking crazy hot. Frank met his eyes, nodding slowly, and Gerard let out a sudden breath, shuddering, like something old and painful he'd been holding in had been released. "Whatever happens," he said slowly, straightening his shoulders, "we're not gonna be coming back from this one. Are we?"

"You know I'm with you," Mikey said, quiet in the silence, and Frank nodded again, reaching out to touch Gerard's mind.

_Me too. Always._

"You're thinking distraction, right?" Mikey said eventually, shifting up onto his knees to glance over the edge of the parapet. Frank didn't know what he thought he could see; they were at the back corner of the Center here, and the wind in his ears was stealing most of the noise, but Mikey just made a thoughtful noise, and started shuffling off around the dome. Frank shrugged and dragged himself up, digging his fingernails in to pry at the lid of the crate.

"I can do distractions." He'd lifted four bars from the warehouse, but the tiny pop-charges for Gerard's paint bombs had barely used up half of one, in the end. Frank hummed to himself, fumbling his gloves out of his pocket, then the fucking gun that had all but embedded itself in his hip. He had some primer left in the kit, so all he really needed to do was jam it into the blocks, good and deep, and ease the receivers in after.

_You're really fucking good at that,_ said Gerard in his mind, admiringly, and Frank nudged him gently aside, slapping at his hand when he went to prod the foil seal on the TPP bar.

_You wanna blow your hand off?_ Carefully, he gathered up the little stack of makeshift bombs, crawling around the edge of the dome until he found a partially-open vent cover in the angled corner where the doorway jutted out. That would do for a temporary stash place, Frank decided; once he'd bent the cover back down, pushing with his mind as well as his fingers, you couldn't even see there was anything in there. Satisfied, he sat back on his heels, glancing around for Gerard and Mikey and finding them sprawled out at the edge of the roof, peering over the low edge and down into the plaza.

It took some squirming, crawling along on his belly like a flat-snake, but Frank was eventually able to wriggle his way up to Gerard's side, lifting his head warily to look over the edge.

"Fuck," he observed after a moment; Gerard nodded grimly, because the plaza and the Capitol steps were seriously fucking crawling with white jackets and masks, lines of them formed up like they were expecting a fucking war or something. If this was really a trap, surely it couldn't just be for them. What the hell was going on?

"Fuck knows," Gerard whispered, turning his face toward Frank. His thoughts were a whirl of _what if they catch us?_ and _are we too late?_ and _we're going to get killed_ , and Frank pushed into the link, trying to project reassurance and coming up short. They had to do _something_ , he knew, but it seemed impossible when they had no idea where Ray and the others even were, if they were inside the Capitol or in jail or already fucking dead, fuck, he couldn't even let himself think about that as a possibility.

"Here they come," Mikey said suddenly, making Frank jump and grab for the gun in Gerard's hand. It was deadly cold under his gloved fingers, not warmed at all despite the frantic heat of Gerard's skin. He didn't have time to think, though, because there was an off-tune hum of a shuttlecar approaching, and then it swept into the plaza, the Peace Keepers drawing in behind it like a barricade, and fuck, Frank realized, there were holo crews at the bottom of the Capitol steps, recorders trained. The thought that Ray's and Luce's Families could be glued to the news stream right now, watching this unfold, made bile rise in his throat, and before he knew what he was doing he was scrambling back for his bag, rifling through it for a flare cap.

"Mikey, how much of a distraction do you need?" he demanded, shuffle-scooting his way back over and grabbing Gerard's hand, hard, when he went to clutch at Mikey's jacket.

"As much as you can manage," Mikey said levelly, eyes locked with Frank's. Frank felt his mouth stretch in a grin that felt like a rictus, and he grabbed for the gun, shoving it blindly into Gerard's hand.

"Fucking do it. We'll cover you, make a fucking mess." Mikey nodded, slow, and pressed his shoulder into Gerard's for a long moment before screwing his face up in a pantomimic expression of concentration. There was a sharp _pop_ of inrushing air that tugged at Frank's clothes and hair, and Gerard blurted _Mikey!_ and tried to scramble up, but Frank grabbed his shoulder, holding him down.

_He's a lucky motherfucker, Gee. He'll be fine._ Frank grimaced, lifting his head to peer over the edge of the parapet. The shuttle had drawn up outside the Capitol, flashlights going off everywhere as a gaggle of stumbling prisoners were prodded up the steps. Frank recognized Ray's manic hair, Luce huddled as far into the shelter of his body as her restraints would allow, and – fuck, that was the tall asshole from the club, what the hell was he doing getting himself dragged up to the Council in chains?

_I don't believe in luck,_ Gerard whispered grimly in his mind.

"Believe in me, then," Frank muttered, and reared up, thumbing the switch and tossing the flare in one swift motion that ended with his hand slammed across his eyes as the light burst in a dazzling flash. Shouts and screams rose up from below in a chorus. "Believe in your motherfucking self, shit, fucking start shooting already!"

_You're a fucking ridiculous asshole–_ Gerard lifted his head warily over the edge, blinking damply, and took aim. His first shot burned into the permacrete half a meter to the left of one of the masked Peace Keepers, but it got their attention even more effectively than the flare; guns came out all across the square, and the officers started shouting orders, sending squads running this way and that. Gerard's second blast glanced off the smooth silver hull of the shuttle, ricocheting madly, and Frank startled when Gerard actually laughed, high and giddy, and pulled the trigger again. He was about to demand his own turn – or, no, he should go grab some more bang; he bet with a little bit of telekinesis he could toss it up high enough that even a major blast wouldn't actually kill anyone – when Gerard gasped, his shot going wild as Mikey appeared out of nowhere on the Capitol steps.

Definitely time for a bigger distraction, shit. Frank started squirming back from the edge, careful not to let any part of himself into firing range, right as Mikey reached Ray, grabbing him by the arm and making the guards shout and reel back as they both popped out of existence.

"Fuck yes," Gerard whispered, squinting as he aimed another shot, "Come on, come – ha." The laser beam sent a white-masked Peace Keeper flying as he threw himself aside, and Frank distinctly saw the tall asshole – Gabe, right – seize the opportunity to deliver a swift kick to the guy's crotch before Luce dragged him aside, a ray gun somehow in her hand.

_Fuck, they can handle themselves_ , Gerard observed, relief washing through him, and Frank grinned and wriggled back, admiring Gerard's ass on his way past. It made Gerard startle a little, the tops of his ears pinking where they poked through his dirty hair.

_What are you – where are you –_

_Relax._ Judging he was a safe distance back from the edge, Frank pushed up a little, keeping his head down as he kneed his way over toward his stash. _I'm gonna get some more distractions, see if I can block up the doorway some or they're gonna be right up our asses in a couple of minutes._

"Right," Gerard muttered, barely audible over the chaos from below; Frank ducked hastily as a blaster shot ricocheted off the parapet, hearing Gerard curse in his head. Fuck, they were getting closer; he glanced over his shoulder, gauging, and decided abruptly to risk it, scrabbling up to his feet and breaking into a run. _Come on, come on, come –_

_Frank!_ Gerard's mind slammed abruptly into his, jerking him to a stop; Frank could hear him scrambling up, too, behind him, but it was too late; the door was swinging open before him, the tall figure of Grant Morrison ducking through and stepping out onto the roof with a gun in his hand.

Gerard reached Frank a second later, snatching at his wrist to drag him back as Morrison stepped inexorably forward, raising the gun.

"Really, Gerard?" Morrison's eyes were as cold and hard as the darkening sky. "Did you think I was that stupid? We've been aware of your... activities, shall we say, for some time. Did you think you could carry on with this –" he swept the barrel of his gun out, indicating the chaos in the square below, only to snap it back, his finger tightening on the trigger, as Frank shifted. "This _tantrum_ , forever?"

"Fuck you," Frank snarled, and Morrison smiled thinly.

"I wasn't speaking to you, Mr Iero, but you may be assured your opinions have been given the consideration they deserve."

"That's Fun Ghoul to you, asshole," Frank snapped back, but Gerard's fingers tightened on his wrist, cutting off the rest.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" he demanded, rocking a fraction of a step toward Morrison but freezing again when Morrison's eyes narrowed. "You're better than this, Grant, you don't have to – it's not about the power, I know you don't care about that, so _what_?"

"On the contrary," Morrison corrected, smooth as silk, "this is entirely about power. The power to make people's lives _better_ , to create a safer place for all of us. You should know that, Gerard; haven't we talked of it?"

"Not like _this_ ," the disgust in Gerard's voice echoed through their link. Frank was too aware of that blackened gun barrel to physically move, but he deepened the link, wrapping their minds together in an embrace of paired thought and emotion that Gerard returned instantly. _I don't care what happens_ , and neither could even tell where the thought began, _I won't let go._

"Really, Gerard?" Morrison raised an eyebrow, taking another step that forced them both back until they were barely centimeters from the drop, the parapet wall not even knee high and no barrier or safety. "You would rather have your petty freedom, than work with us for the betterment of all?" He sounded like the words meant nothing at all to him, like a drone playing at humanity, and Frank felt his own mouth twist with Gerard's repulsion.

"I'd rather go to _hell_ ," Gerard spat, and Morrison narrowed his eyes, raising the gun. This was it, Frank realized; it felt strangely freeing, and he thought, _why not_. Morrison's finger started to move, pulling the trigger, but Frank was faster, lashing out with his mind to slam the button into the detonator tucked into his kit.

The shockwave hit first, as the Center's dome exploded, knocking Morrison off his feet, and Frank grabbed for Gerard, feeling them start to fall. There was nothing to catch them but the open air and the permacrete storeys below, but the fear was something distant and unimportant for that long, endless moment of falling – until another mind slammed into theirs, frantic and grasping, and it was like a door opening as Gerard screamed _MIKEY!_ and Frank _reached_ , latching onto the familiar signature and pulling in concert.

Space turned inside out with a _pop_ , then slammed back into him like a ton of bricks. Or the metal deckplate of a ship, all the breath choked out of Frank's lungs as they hit in a tangle of limbs and panic.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck what! What?!_ Gerard flailed free of Frank's grip, flopping over to the side, and Frank struggled to breathe enough to make sense of the white panels above them. He was seeing double, and it took him a long wheezing moment to realize that he was seeing through Gerard's eyes as well as his own. It took even longer to extricate himself enough that he could tell he was in the gangway of a ship – a really nice ship, or else...

"Mikey," Gerard croaked, struggling to his knees and patting distractedly at Frank's side. Frank was pretty sure Mikey wasn't actually there, but Gerard seemed to know where he was going, so Frank let him pull him upright, sort of, and they staggered down the hallway leaning drunkenly together. "Mikey, did you steal Grant's ship?" Gerard demanded accusingly, as they turned a corner into the cockpit of – fuck, it _was_ Morrison's, there was the fucking crest on the wall and everything, and Mikey was slumped in the nav chair with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes.

"Holy fuck, you guys!" Ray squeaked from the pilot's chair, head whipping around from where he'd been staring madly out the viewscreen. "That was – holy fuck!" He didn't seem to have anything else; Frank couldn't really blame him. He let go of Gerard reluctantly, slumping down into the nearest seat and trying to stop his head from spinning.

"You _stole Grant's ship_ ," Gerard said again, full of disbelief and a dawning edge of delight. Mikey made a grumbling, pained sort of noise, and Gerard stumbled over to pet his hair. Overextension, Frank realized sympathetically; it was starting to bite into his temples, too. More importantly, though...

"How long before they come after us?" he asked, squinting at the viewscreen. It definitely showed space, the blue of atmosphere fading rapidly to black as they burst out of orbit. He thought he recognised the star patterns. "And where're we going?"

"Pretty soon, and no idea," Mikey reported shortly, still without looking. "Gee?"

"Huh?" Gerard blinked, catching at the back of Mikey's seat to steady himself. "What?"

_Ha._ Frank giggled, kind of involuntarily, and reached out to take Gerard's hand. "We can go anywhere, so long as it's away from here, right?" He laced their fingers together, squeezing as he waited for Mikey's nod, and cocked his head at Gerard. "So, Party Poison, where are we gonna go?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if you've made it this far (thank you!) you should definitely go listen the the awesome mix that [falter](http://falter.dreamwidth.org) made: [Slipstream](http://flyby.dreamwidth.org/2236.html).
> 
> And, of course, so much love to the BBB mods for this.


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